


Bring It On Home

by Teragram



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dimension Travel, Doppelganger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6519865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teragram/pseuds/Teragram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An incident with a demonic portal brings Dean Winchester face to face with his own double. The two Deans butt heads, but it’s the things they have in common that piss Dean off the most, such as their feelings toward Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to the Supernatural fandom. Advice is always appreciated.

The demon had the portal open by the time the Winchesters broke the door down. The old school’s concrete wall, brittle with age and leaking rusty water, was shimmering, half real, half dream. The demon looked ecstatic, her blonde head thrown back, chanting the invocation with her arms wide to welcome whatever she was expecting. And something was responding to the invitation. Even as Dean and Sam leapt into action a scaly arm was pushing its way into their reality. As Dean attacked he wondered why it was always freaky monsters that came through inter-dimensional portals. Where were the dimensions filled with hot yoga instructors?

Her spell finished, the demon turned to Sam and Dean as they closed in. She gestured with her hand and Sam was thrown, his back slamming painfully into the crumbling wall. Dean, his knife at the ready, barreled ahead, but with a flick of her wrist he was tossed into a pile of broken desks. Dean’s creative swearing could be heard, quickly drowned out by Sam shouting an exorcism.

Distracted by the Latin, the demon broke her telekinetic hold on Dean. In a flash the hunter leapt, knife first. It was over in moments, the demon’s eyes turning to fire as she burned within her dying vessel. Dean let the body drop to the floor and hurried to help his brother.

“You okay?” Dean frisked Sam for injuries despite the blood welling up on his own arm from the broken desks.

“Peachy.” Sam stretched his back, winced, and then stared in horror over Dean’s shoulder. “The portal isn’t closing!” Sam pulled a silver gun from his waistband and aimed it at the creature pushing its way through.

“Don’t you think I can friggin’ see that?” Dean sized up the claws on the monster’s spindly arms and shouted up the stairs. “A little help in here, Cas?”

Castiel strolled into the room carrying a heavy duffel in one hand and brushing gore from his overcoat with the other. “The demons guarding the school are dead. One of them exploded when I touched him. I have no idea why. It made quite a mess.”

“Looks like we’ve got a mess of our own.” Sam emptied a clip into the monster but the bullets did little apart from annoying it. The creature let out a squeal and turned bulging white eyes toward Sam, flexing its jaw to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. Whatever it was, it was definitely a meat-eater.

Dean ran forward, gun firing and stabbed it with the demon-killing knife once he was within range. Sam was right; this was a mess. Bullets were useless. The knife, at least, had some effect, and the creature began to bleed and thrash. He stabbed like his life depended on it, but he could do the math. It wasn’t going to be enough.

Castiel opened the duffel bag, threw Sam a machete, and then poured salt across the doorway. He dropped the duffel at the foot of the stairs, shook a can of spray paint, and started marking a devil’s trap onto the floor.

As Sam attacked with the long blade Dean shouted for the shotgun. Cas paused to toss him the weapon. Dean unloaded both barrels onto the monster and felt his guts churn when the rock salt was ineffective. They retreated as the creature squirmed into their world, additional arms emerging from the void, reaching for them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Dean swore like a prayer and shuffled franticly through the weapons, pulling out a canteen of holy water and splashing the creature in its toothy face. The water failed to burn.

Sam made eye contact and Dean understood exactly what his brother was thinking. They were screwed. If the rock salt didn’t work then the salt line was probably a bust too. And if the holy water had no effect, would the devil’s trap even hold it? The brothers stood their ground at the foot of the stairs. They could not allow this thing to leave the basement.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, his breathing heavy now. “Get upstairs and barricade the door, you hear me?”

“I’ve got some gasoline upstairs,” Castiel said, examining the creature dispassionately. “I’ll prepare fire bombs. But I am certainly not barricading you in with it.”

“Jesus Christ, Cas, could you just do what I—” His complaint died as Dean realized the angel had left the room. For someone who’d spent billions of years as a soldier, Cas sucked at taking orders.

The creature turned, hissing at where its bulbous abdomen filled the portal. It seemed distressed by something happening at its back end. Suddenly it began to thrash and its attempts to enter the dingy basement took on the nature of an escape from its own world, rather than a birth into theirs. Dean took the opportunity to attack with the only weapon that had shown any impact, his knife. Sam did likewise with the machete, managing to cut off two of the flailing arms.

And then the creature was in, and scrambling for cover. Dean didn’t need a degree in alien biology to understand that it was afraid. He took a fighting stance and waited, although no part of him wanted to see whatever monster could scare that thing.

Suddenly a familiar shape emerged through the portal swinging a bronze battleaxe. With a solid thunk the axe landed in the creature’s skull, splitting it open. It thrashed wildly, spraying fragments of blood, bone, and brain before it stilled. Dean’s jaw dropped as he watched the newcomer hack at a spiny protrusion on the monster’s abdomen. Behind him, the portal stopped shimmering and took on the appearance of grey Jell-O.

Sam gripped the machete and his voice was tight. “Uh, Dean?”

“Gimme a minute, would ya?” The newcomer grunted as he pulled the spiny limb free from the creature’s body and tossed it aside before looking up, his eyes going wide. “Sam?” His head turned to look over his shoulder at the gelatinous wall and then back at Sam. His tone communicated confusion, fear, and the same fierce protectiveness Sam was used to hearing in his brother’s voice. Yet here it was, coming out of a Dean Winchester look-alike that had emerged from the same portal as the nightmare now dead at his feet.

Still gripping the knife, Dean stepped forward and made eye contact with his double. Tense seconds ticked by as the men sized one another up, their green eyes boring into one another. Finally, the newcomer broke eye contact to glance back at the portal.

“Well I’ll be damned. Sam was right. Friggin’ inter-dimensional portal.” He let out a sigh of resignation and turned to Dean again. “So what are you, like my evil double?” His hand tensed on the battleaxe.

Dean raised a palm, but held the knife firmly in his other hand. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” He nudged the carcass on the floor with a boot. “But seein’ you kill one of those sons of bitches, I’m guessing you’re on our side.” Warily, he held out a hand to the stranger with his face. “Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you.”

The other man shook the offered hand in a firm grip. “Likewise. On both accounts.”

“This is freaky.” Sam approached the newcomer without fear, looking for differences between the brother he knew and the man before them.

Dean looked too. Their bodies were alike, muscles built through strenuous work. His double wore canvas pants and a soft-looking flannel under a leather jacket. One look at the grain of the leather told Dean that it hadn’t come from any creature he recognized. The man from the portal had a lot more scars, including one that cut through his upper and lower lip, six months old at a guess. Dean was pleased to find differences. It made him feel less like he was facing a shapeshifter or an Invasion of the Body Snatchers situation.

Dean glanced down at the broken form on the floor. “What the hell is this thing? Salt didn’t hurt it. Holy water didn’t hurt it. I was starting to worry it was indestructible.”

“Nah.” The newcomer shrugged. “Geloids aren’t evil. They’re just animals. Scary as fuck, but nothing special. You guys got grizzly bears here?”

“Yeah.”

The second Dean nodded. “They’re ‘bout as dangerous as a grizzly.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the spiny limb he’d severed earlier. “But they reproduce like crazy once you kill ‘em, unless you pull off the egg chute.”

“Well. That’s friggin’ gross.” Dean wiped his knife on a moldering stack of gym mats and sheathed it.

“You think that’s gross, you should see them laying eggs.” The double looked around at the dirty room. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“Derelict schoolhouse on the edge of Casper, Wyoming,” Dean supplied.

“Planet Earth,” Sam added. Both Deans gave him the same incredulous look and he crossed his arms defensively. “What? I don’t know what they call their planet in his dimension.”

The door at the top of the stairs opened and Castiel walked in. “The firebombs are ready if you…oh.” He looked at the carcass on the floor. “I guess you won’t be needing them. Unless….” He looked toward the portal and saw the two Deans standing there. “Interesting.” His head tilted in curiosity.

“Cas?” The second Dean’s face became a blank mask and his eyes locked on the angel walking down the stairs toward him. As Castiel stepped onto the gritty concrete floor the man grinned before bolting forward and gripping the angel in a crushing hug.

“Jesus, Cas. It’s good to see you again. I thought...it’s been—” The rest of his words were muffled as he buried his face in the angel’s collar, oblivious to the demon gore staining it. Castiel stiffened in the embrace and looked at Sam and Dean with wide eyes.

Dean cleared his throat loudly. “This is Castiel, angel of the Lord.” He narrowed his eyes as the hug continued unabated. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Hearing his words, the second Dean stepped back. He was smiling but his eyes were wet and he wiped his face with a corner of his flannel shirt.

“Yeah.” He looked at Castiel with shock and wonder. “Right. You’re the Cas in this dimension. Of course.” He put out a hand. “Uh. Nice to meet you.” The words sounded strangled and Dean noted that the handshake lasted twice as long as the one the double had given him.

Castiel ran his tongue over his lips and swallowed. “You came through the portal. With the…” He looked at the carcass and then at the Dean before him, staring in astonishment.

“Geloid. Yeah. I’d been clearing out a nest with Sam. Next thing I know I’m riding the sonofabitch through a portal into Bizarroworld. No offense, guys.” He smiled at the angel. “God it’s good to see you. You look good.”

Dean cleared his throat loudly. “Can we focus on the portal?”

“Right.” Sam went to inspect the wall.

“Don’t get too close,” Dean warned his brother, extending an arm as if to pull him back.

Sam waved a hand in annoyance. He turned to Castiel. “It doesn’t look fully closed.” He picked up a chunk of broken desk and tossed it toward the portal. It caught in the gelatinous matter and then burst into flame, cinders falling to the floor.

“Whoa.” Sam looked at his brother’s double, his mouth twisted in sympathy. “That doesn’t bode well for getting you home.”

“The spell only opened a one-way portal,” Castiel explained. “It’s dormant, but not closed.”

"Think we can all see that,” Dean said petulantly. “Try bein’ less useless and tell us something we don’t know.”

“Hey!” The second Dean moved in front of the angel. “You talk to him like that again and I’ll break that pretty nose of yours.”

Dean looked at the stranger, trying to decide if he wanted to laugh or take a swing at him. Possibly both.

“It’s okay,” Castiel said, putting a hand on his would-be protector’s arm. “Don’t take what he says too seriously.”

“Friendly fella.” Dean groused and began to collect their weapons and pack them back into the duffel. “I say we burn that ugly thing,” he pointed to the body, “then leave here, lock up behind us, and hit the books.”

Sam pulled out his phone and began snapping pictures, focusing on anything that might have been part of the demon’s spell. “We can’t leave it like this,” he said, gesturing to the portal. “Anything could come through.”

“Doubt that.” The second Dean sat on the stairs and hung his head. “If it was still active on our side Sam would’ve tried to get me back by now. Sent a message through. Something.”

“So it’s a good news-bad news situation.” Dean slapped a hand on his double’s shoulder and quickly removed it when he saw the glare directed at him. Apparently Bizarro-Dean was kind of a pissy bitch. “Don’t worry, man. We’ll get you home.”

Castiel touched the same shoulder. “We’ll do everything in our power to return you safely to your world. I promise.”

The double ran his fingers across Castiel’s. “I know you will, Cas. Thanks.”

“Gimmie a hand with this?” Dean grabbed one end of the geloid and gestured to the other end. His double grabbed and hefted, and together they lugged the body up the stairs, down a hall, and out to a deserted and weed-chocked yard. Castiel followed close behind.

Dean passed his phone to the angel. “Cas, can you get a shot of the two of us with this thing?” He hefted the body up, allowing it to dangle like a prized marlin, while Castiel captured the image. “Cool. Thanks.” He took the phone back. “This is going in the Winchester journal.”

“Technically,” his double said, “it was my kill, not yours.”

“I woulda killed it if you hadn’t shown up.” Dean smirked. “Head-splitting was next on my list.”

The three of them spent an enjoyable five minutes lobbing the angel’s gasoline bombs at the body until it was burned beyond recognition, then returned to the school basement.

Coming down the stairs, Dean shouted to his brother. “Let’s pack it up, Sammy!”

“Yeah. Yeah. Gimmie a minute.” Sam was searching through the pockets of the dead demon. He pulled out a wallet, keys, and a handful of what looked like human teeth.

“Looking for change?” his brother taunted. There was a burger and a beer with his name on them out there somewhere and he intended to find them, and soon.

Sam sighed. “Looking for anything that might give us a lead on the spell she used to open the portal.” He slipped the wallet and keys into his jacket and grimaced as he put the teeth into a bag.

Dean shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“If I may, Sam?” Castiel approached the demon and Sam stepped back. Castiel leaned in close to the body, took a few sniffs, then grabbed the neck of her shirt and tore it open, exposing markings on her chest in dried blood. “These look important. We should record them.”

“On it.” Sam snapped photos and then gently removed the shirt to check her back for markings as well.

“You done, or are we gonna have to get the two of you a room?” Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m done.” He left the body. “I’ll go outside where the signal’s better and send these photos to my cloud.” He moved past both Deans and bounded up the stairs.

The newcomer nodded toward the demon. “What do you do with her?”

“Normally we’d burn it,” Dean said, “but we might need the body, or part of it, to reverse the ritual. Our best bet is to cover her with that tarp over there and lock up behind us.”

“Alright.” The double stood, grabbed the tarp, and approached the body. Castiel helped him spread the tarp on the floor. “I saw we wrap her up like a burrito. You got those here?”

“Yes.” Castiel shifted the body onto the tarp, “Dean and Sam bought me burritos at a restaurant in El Paso. I liked them very much.” He frowned. Food hadn’t been the same since getting his grace back.

“Me too.” Dean began to roll the body in the tarp. “Sam and I have a place in New Sonora we like.” He looked up and for a moment his eyes met the angel’s and lingered. “Used to go there with you too.”

Dean winced. His arm was killing him, but the closest thing they had to a medic was giving restaurant recommendations like some kind of Anthony Bourdain knock-off. He frowned at the bulky package his double was leaning against the wall.

“Once decomp sets in that tarp won’t do much to hide the fact it’s a body in there.”

Castiel shrugged. “Let’s hope we can burn it before it draws attention.”

The double smiled at him. “You bring the firebombs, I’ll bring the marshmallows.”

Dean felt a churn in his guts that he told himself was just hunger.

The door opened and Sam came down the stairs and stood on the lower stringer, towering over all of them. “You guys ready?”

“Just about.” Dean’s arm throbbed.

“What happens now?” his double asked, brushing the dust and grime from his hands.

“Now we go back to the motel and try to piece together the spell she used to open the portal in the first place,” Sam explained.

Dean turned on the double, eyes narrowed. “Let’s get somethin’ straight,” he said. “You’re stuck here, but you’re not a guest. You gotta pull your weight.”

The second Dean laughed. “You mean besides killing the geloid that was kicking your ass and would’ve laid eggs in your dead bodies?”

“I mean research. You can read, right?”

“Oh, I read real good.” The newest Winchester wasn’t intimidated, and Dean wasn’t sure if he should be pissed or proud. “Besides,” the double added, “I’m not exactly chuffed about being stuck in some shithole dimension with the asshole version of me.”

Okay then. Pissed it is.

“Well I’m not exactly thrilled to be babysitting a bitchy imitation,” Dean said.

“Guys,” Sam said, his tone pleading with them not to bicker.

“He’s not an imitation,” Castiel supplied, looking at both Deans as if comparing their souls, which, given the curious glint in his eye, he probably was. “He is you. A version of you.” He turned his attention on the second Dean. “There are a differences, of course. But those are experiential, not ontological.”

“I figured that from the scars.” Dean looked at his double with reluctant sympathy. “You’ve been through the wringer, man.”

“Yeah. I’ve been in the shit.” The double reached out and grabbed Dean’s jaw, tilting his face into the light. “But you look fresh as a baby’s ass.”

Dean stepped back. “Perk of having an angel on the team. Which reminds me.” He pulled his arm stiffly out of his flannel shirt. “Cas, if you would?” He revealed a gash in his bicep where the metal from the broken desks had pierced him. It looked as bad as it felt.

“Jesus, Dean!” Sam winced at the injury. “No wonder you’re biting everyone’s head off. That must hurt like hell.”

“It doesn’t tickle.”

Castiel reached out and healed it with a touch.

“Thanks.” Dean flexed his bicep approvingly and pulled the bloody shirt back on.

“My pleasure,” Castiel mumbled, circling around to take in the newcomer again. Dean felt a pang he told himself was definitely not jealousy. It was only natural that everyone would be interested in him. He was new and shiny. And if he was honest about it, Dean was kind of interested in him too. It wasn’t everyday he got to see an alternate version of himself. This guy had killed creatures he’d never even seen before. He might learn something.

“If you recognize Cas, how come you’ve got the,” Dean touched his own lip where his double’s scar cut through.

His double looked away. “My Cas is dead.”

Dean felt a stab of sympathy. “That bites, man. I’m sorry.” His face brightened. “Listen, don’t worry too hard yet. Our Cas died twice already. Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, his eyes riveted on the double. “Each time I was resurrected.”

“I’m happy for you.” The other Dean’s face was deadpan. “But I guess the God in our dimension is more of an asshole. Cause my Cas never came back.”

“How long has it been?” Sam asked, his face all concern.

“Six months.” He touched his lip. “As long as I’ve had this.”

The four of them stood in awkward silence. Finally Dean spoke. “Well first off, we’ll figure out how to close the portal temporarily so no more Gila monsters come through.”

“Geloids,” his double corrected.

“Whatever. Then we’ll figure out how to get you back. There’s gotta be some way to alter the spell. Make the inter-dimensional door swing both ways or something.”

Sam laughed.

Dean shifted to face him “What’s so damn funny?”

Sam didn’t bother hiding his amusement. “You said ‘swing both ways.’”

Dean rolled his eye, picked up the duffel and tossed it to the other Dean. “Follow me.” He brushed past Sam and led the way upstairs. “Sam’s got shotgun. You and Cas sit in the back.” His double didn’t argue.


	2. Chapter 2

“We’ll have to figure out a way to distinguish between the two of you,” Sam said once they were in the vehicle. “I can’t call you both Dean.”

“We could call the newcomer New Dean,” Castiel suggested.

“Or Doppeldean?” Sam added. “Like doppelganger?”

Dean bristled as he steered the Impala out of the school’s gravel drive and onto the disused side road. ‘New Dean’ had a flavor of replacement that made him uncomfortably itchy, and he wasn’t crazy about Doppeldean. “What about a nickname? You got one of those?”

The double smirked and his eyes slid across to the angel. “One of Cas’ brothers called me a mud monkey once.”

“That would not be a suitable nickname,” Castiel objected. “Was it Uriel who said that?” he asked, his voice low, and he and the double held a whispered conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter. Dean strained to hear them, that feeling of replacement growing in his chest.

Finally Castiel raised his voice so he could be heard in the front seat. “We could call him Dean Novak. It means ‘new man.’ The derivation seems appropriate.”

“Except it makes him sound like he’s your friggin’ wife, Cas.” Dean turned angrily onto the highway and directed the car toward their motel.

“Technically I don’t have a last name,” Castiel objected. He turned to the double. “Novak was the last name of my vessel.”

“But he does.” Dean glanced into the rear view. “You’re a Winchester, right?”

“Always have been,” the double admitted. “But Novak’s got a nice ring to it.”

Sam snorted a laugh. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Jerk,” Dean muttered under his breath. He turned on the tape player and AC/DC’s Shot Down In Flames poured from the speakers.

“You guys okay back there?” Dean asked after a few miles. Dean’s double hadn’t stopped babbling and laughing and Castiel seemed to find every word fascinating.

“We’re fine. Your music doesn’t suck, but keep your eyes on the road. I don’t want to die in some weird-ass dimension ‘cause my mirror half’s a distracted driver.”

Dean grumbled threats of violence that were audible only to Castiel.

* * *

“So we had to buy him tampons for like, a week, until we figured out how to reverse the spell. I just about died laughing.”

Castiel found himself fascinated by Dean’s soul twin. His facial expressions were light and relaxed as he told a story about his brother being hit with a curse that turned him into a woman. To all appearances he was sharing amusing battle stories with a colleague. But the pheromones in his sweat were telling a different story. He was aroused.

“Poor Sammy. And you thought I was overprotective before.” He paused, and the smile lost some of its shine. “Sorry. I meant my Cas. I know you’re not him.”

“You must miss him very much,” Castiel ventured.

“Yeah,” Dean’s glance flickered toward the front seats and then back again. “More than I can say.” Castiel had never been good at grasping human innuendo, but he understood this one. He looked forward to getting this Dean alone so they could talk without being overheard.

They pulled into the parking lot of the Sundowner Motel and Dean twisted around in the drivers seat to face them.

“Cas, you’re gonna babysit Evil Spock here.” He handed him the key to their room. “Use Sam’s laptop. Research what you can.”

Sam looked surprised. “What am I gonna use?”

“You’re coming with me to the demon’s lair.” He pulled some crumpled bills from his pocket and handed them back. “In case he gets hungry.”

“Thanks,” Dean’s double nodded.

“Don’t mention it. Sam and I’ll eat on the road. Should be back in an hour or so.” He looked at Castiel. “I’ll text you if anything comes up.”

Sam folded himself out of the car and tilted his seat forward so Castiel and the second Dean could climb out. As they exited he pulled out the wallet he’d taken off the body and found the driver’s license. “The demon probably took up residence in the victim’s house.” He read off an address on East 8th Street.

“Safe travels!” Castiel and the double waved goodbye as the Impala pulled away. Then he turned toward the motel, glanced at the key, and lead the way to room 22.

* * *

In the faded yellow motel room Dean’s double was pacing, his fingers tracing the scar on his lip.

“So if me and him are the same, soul-wise, does that mean that you and my Cas are too?”

Castiel nodded. “Almost certainly.” The angel looked shy for a moment. “Am I correct in assuming that you and he are a couple?”

Dean nodded, looking miserable even as he appreciated that the angel didn’t use the past tense. “Cas said he loved me from the first time he met me. In Hell, even.”

“He didn’t lie to you.” Cas reached out a hand as if Dean were a warm stove. “I can feel your love for him. It’s…very intense.”

The double jerked his head toward the door. “But you and him, you’re not together?”

“No.” Castiel sat on a bed and spread his hands. “Dean and I are colleagues.” Dean had even called him family on occasion, and it had felt like a light burning inside of him. But a lot had happened since then.

Dean made a face Castiel interpreted as revulsion. “Colleagues? That’s it?”

Castiel nodded.

“Jeez, Cas, I’m sorry.” Dean sat beside him and the bed sagged, causing their legs to touch.

“Don’t be.” The angel looked ashamed. “I broke his trust. I hurt Sam. I’m just a resource to him now.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Dean took Castiel’s hand, cradling it between his own, like an injured bird. His skin felt rough and warm, like Dean’s, but Dean had never touched him like this. His physical interactions with Dean rarely lasted longer than 2.5 seconds. This one had already reached five seconds and hadn’t stopped yet.

“I’m as sure as I can be.”

“As sure as you can be without talking to him about it?”

The angel shrugged as if indifferent. “If I thought words would make a difference I’d have said them already.”

“They’d make a difference to me, angel.” Dean’s double pulled Castiel to his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Castiel relaxed into the embrace, enjoying how it felt to be so close to a Dean Winchester who cared.

* * *

Dean unlocked the door of a one-story stucco bungalow on East 8th and led the way inside. It was nice. They said that cleanliness was next to godliness, and they weren’t completely wrong. Dean had seen enough demon lairs to know that cleaning wasn’t one of their priorities. If the place was still this fresh the victim couldn’t have been possessed long.

“I’ll take the bedroom.” He entered the small room and surveyed the contents. A low dresser and mirror held photos of the victim with friends and family. A stack of books and binders indicated she’d been attending college. Dean opened a diary and flipped through it. The last entry was over a month old.

He opened the closet. Several stuffed animals and a tangle of clothes were crammed into the bottom of the small recess. He pulled a fluffy white bear from the debris. She’d still been a kid at heart. Dean sorted through the clothes on hangars. Evidently the demon hadn’t liked anything that didn’t show off the victim’s cleavage. He searched for anything that might have been hidden but found only the sad, mundane secrets of a college girl.

The bed was a rumpled mess, and stained from sex. He looked under the mattress and the bed but found only a pair of heels. He dumped the contents of the garbage can onto the carpet and used a pen to sort through the refuse, but it yielded nothing.

“Demon’s been gettin’ her freak on,” he yelled toward the kitchen.

Sam came in carrying a plastic bag. “Okay. That’s gross. Found some items in the kitchen that practically scream ‘demonic ritual.’ I bagged them up for Castiel to go over.”

“Something seem off to you about Cas since that portal guy showed up?” Dean asked.

“Off how?”

“I dunno. Just…off.”

“Can’t say I noticed,” Sam said. “But if you say so, I believe you.”

Dean sighed. “Let’s check the living room. There’s gotta be a spell book or somethin’ around.”

They began to search the bookshelves.

“Bingo!” Sam pulled a musty tome from a stack of Italian Vogue magazines by the couch.

Dean’s stomach grumbled. “Sweet. Bag it and let’s grab something to eat.”

Sam slipped the book into his backpack. “I could eat.”

“You can always eat.”

Sam made a move toward the door when his eye spotted a panel in the low ceiling. “Hold up a sec.” He stretched, his fingers easily shifting the panel. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and trained it inside. “Grab me one of those chairs from the kitchen, would ya?”

“Too short to see into the attic?” Dean teased him, bringing the chair. “That’s gotta suck.”

“You suck,” Sam retorted, climbing onto the chair and poking his head up through the tiny door. He played the flashlight across the crawlspace, finding himself at the center of a circle filled with unfamiliar markings and gutted candles. “I guess we know where she performed part of the ritual.”

Dean gripped the chair, holding it steady. “Well Mapplethorpe that shit and get down here. I need burgers.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised and he wondered when Dean had become familiar enough with Mapplethorpe’s photos to turn his name into a verb. But given the artist’s homoerotic subject matter he didn’t think his brother would want to discuss it.

“On it.” He pulled out his phone and took photos as he rotated slowly on the chair, getting the full 360 degrees of the crawlspace.

Sam stepped to the floor. “I say we lock this place up, find a place to print off the photos, and grab something to eat.”

“Reverse that.” Dean led the way out. “I’m friggin’ starving.”

* * *

Castiel flipped through the book Sam had found, humming to himself.

“Can you read it?” Sam asked. “I can’t even tell what language it’s in.”

The angel turned a page, intrigued. “It’s Osage, a Siouan language once spoken by the Indigenous people of Oklahoma.” He looked up at Sam, hovering anxiously. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Well let us know as soon as you’ve got anything,” Sam said. “The longer the other Dean stays here…”

“The less likely it is that we’ll be able to return him,” Castiel finished the unpleasant thought. Sam was right. Returning Dean to the correct dimension would be difficult enough, but they also needed to ensure that he arrived at the correct chronological point. And the more time passed the less possible that would be. Their dimensions might not be progressing at the same rate. A day here might be a week, a month, or even longer in his home dimension. If they weren’t careful they would return Dean to a timepoint where everyone he knew and loved was already dead.

Castiel watched Sam sit by the window and open his laptop, and Dean put his feet up on the desk as he examined the evidence he’d gathered from the demon’s lair. The other Dean was flipping through a book entitled, Portals To The Beyond: A Primer. Castiel steeled his nerve. Time was short. He needed to act. He set the spell book on the table.

“I have decided to go to the 7-11 store,” he announced, making eye contact with Dean’s double. He turned to Sam. “Would you like me to bring you anything?”

“Pick me up one of those little pies,” Dean said, He set a stack of photos on a table and leaned back in his chair, stretching and yawning.

“I’m good,” Sam assured him, his cheeks dimpling in an almost-smile before he returned to his laptop.

“Say New Dean,” Castiel said, in what he hoped was a convincingly unpremeditated manner, “how would you like to accompany me? I can familiarize you with this dimension’s convenience shopping customs.”

“Always in the mood to meet new snack food.” The double set his book aside and followed him out.

“Oh yeah. They’ll blend right in.” Dean chuckled after they left. “Talk about the blind leading the blind.”

Sam nodded, but his gaze followed them as they crossed the decaying parking lot, heads bent close in conversation.

* * *

“I’ve found the spell that opened the portal,” Castiel said once they were half way across the parking lot.

“That’s great,” Dean’s double said. Then, noting the angel’s pained expression he added, “Or is it?”

Castiel looked guilty. “The invocation is straightforward and the ingredients can be obtained with relative ease. I’m confident I can alter the spell to make the portal bidirectional. But there’s one element that poses greater difficulty.”

“What’s that?” When the angel didn’t elaborate he added, “You can tell me anything, Cas. Seriously. What’s the deal?”

“As you may be aware, many spells require sacrifice, or an expulsion of energy. Blood, usually. Sometimes sacrifice. This one…requires a sexual act.”

“Okay.” Dean’s double was unfazed. “Is it gross? Or immoral or something?”

Castiel huffed out an embarrassed laugh. “No. It’s just…we’re four men. Sam and Dean are, well, Dean in particular has a fragile masculinity.”

They arrived at the 7-11 and Dean paused, a smile on his lips. “So?”

“So you see the dilemma.” Castiel’s brow furrowed, remembering Dean’s attempt to have him copulate with Chastity at a brothel in Maine. “I would suggest hiring a professional, but both partners need to recite part of the spell, and one needs to provide the blood with which the other marks their torso. Asking that of a sex worker isn’t exactly ‘flying under the radar’ so to speak.” He made quotation marks with his fingers.

“So someone needs to take one for the team.” Dean’s double grinned. “And I’m guessing it’s me.” Castiel could smell the increase in the hunter’s pheromone production. He found the idea exciting. That was promising.

Castiel blushed. “I’m saying that maybe we could take care of that part of the spell ourselves,” he looked at the crumbling asphalt at his feet, “and that maybe Dean could just…never know.”

The double cupped Castiel’s jaw in his hand, running his thumb through the bristly hairs. “Whatever you need.” He glanced back toward the motel. “And if it means keepin’ a secret from that dickweed, then I’m all for it.”

Dean had been touching his face for 6.4 seconds now. Castiel’s eyes scanned the parking lot, anxious lest they draw unwelcome attention. “Dean is not a dickweed. He has intimacy issues. Trust issues. Issues in general, really.”

The double exhaled loudly and let his hand drop from the angel’s face. “You’re telling me. I look at him and I see the guy I used to be. Would be still if it weren’t for you.”

Castiel looked serious. “So we’re agreed then? You’ll help with the spell?”

Dean’s fingers brushed gently across Castiel’s hand and left his vessel tingling. “Absolutely. I’m your man.”

“Your co-operation is very much appreciated.”

The hunter grinned. “I know how appreciative you can get, Cas, so that’s really saying something.”

* * *

When Castiel and Dean had returned with snacks and pie the angel had announced his intention to collect spell ingredients and promptly vanished. The two Deans had reluctantly agreed to share a bed, both citing Sam’s tendency to sprawl and kick. Sam had stayed up late, pouring over the spell book, Skyping with one of Bobby’s old contacts on a reservation in Oklahoma. The following morning, when Dean announced his intention to go to the IHOP for breakfast, Sam’s only response had been a thrown pillow and a grunt as he buried his head under the covers.

Dean steered the Impala along the streets of Casper, trying to locate the pancake house. His eyes skimmed across to his double, riding shotgun. They were alone for the first time. He might as well make the most of it.

“What’s the deal with you and Cas?” he asked, raising his voice over the sound of Bad Company’s Good Lovin’ Gone Bad.

The double looked at him evenly. “Whaddya mean?”

“I mean you, acting like you’re working up the nerve to ask him to the prom. What’s the deal?”

The scarred lip twitched. “You sure you wanna know?”

Dean gritted his teeth. This guy was infuriating. “I’m asking.”

"Back home, Cas and I are together.” He gave Dean a meaningful look “Like together-together.”

“Really?” Dean durned down the music He felt surprised, but not that surprised. And then he felt surprised by that. “Since when?”

“Since always.” The double stared hard at him. “You tellin’ me you didn’t pop a boner the first time you looked Cas in the eye? ‘Cause I sure as hell did.” He smiled at the memory. “Kissed him with everything I had. Freaked Bobby right the hell out. I’m guessin’ you didn’t?”

Dean hesitated. He knew what the guy was talking about. His dad had taught him the importance of maintaining eye contact. It was a way to intimidate, and Dean had started down some of the scariest things ever to crawl the Earth. But when he and Cas had locked eyes there had been this thing between them, fluttering like it was alive. When Cas turned that blue stare on him and tilted his head, everything else dropped away. And that scared the crap out of him.

“I didn’t know what the hell he was,” he said, his voice raised defensively. “I stabbed him in the friggin’ heart.”

The double looked out the window at a passing strip mall. “Well, that explains a lot.”

Dean frowned. “So you kiss the guy and then what? Two dudes walking into the sunset together?” It sounded like a demon deal. There had to be something vicious hidden in the fine print. People like him didn’t get roses and orchestra moments. People like him got to hold a friend’s guts in until it stopped mattering, or watch their loved ones burn. Guy like him got to dig more shallow graves than they’d had birthdays. For a moment he just stared, amazed there could ever be a Dean Winchester who put his feelings out there like that.

His double shrugged. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“And Sam? Bobby? They’re just cool with it?”

“Yeah. They’ve wrapped their head around way weirder shit. Took dad a while to come around.

“Dad’s alive in your dimension?”

“He was. Died taking down a demon named Alistair. I’m actually glad he lived long enough to meet Cas and get to know him.” Dean’s double smiled. “Man, you should’ve seen the macho posturing. You’ve thought I was his teenage daughter. And there was an incident with a shotgun. But we worked it out.”

Dean felt bile in the back of his throat. He pulled into the IHOP parking lot and turned in his seat, his brow creased.

“So your Cas never betrayed you, or tortured Bobby’s ex, or ate up purgatory, or declared himself a god, or broke Sam’s wall?”

“Hell no.” His double looked confused. “I don’t even understand half the shit you just said.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t get it. Your Cas is a goddamn love machine and I get the back-stabbing mental case. What the hell?”

“I can think of one reason,” his double muttered. He made a move to exit the car.

Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “You got something to say, you say it.” There was a look in his eyes that echoed deep within the other man. He understood that need to know. Even when, maybe especially when, it was gonna hurt.

His double’s face showed an uncomfortable mix of sympathy and disgust. “I’m saying that if Cas betrayed you maybe it’s ‘cause you broke his damn heart.”

Dean leaned in and his voice took a threatening edge “You’re saying Cas lying to me for a year and conspiring against us with the King of Hell is _my_ fault? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

The double cocked an eyebrow. “You tellin’ me I’m wrong?”

Dean leaned back and shook his head in disbelief. “You must have some kind of ego on you. Why would screwing your ass make any difference to Cas?”

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m awesome. But I’m not talking about sex.” He looked at Dean as if he were a puzzle with missing pieces. “I’m talking about love, man. Do you even get what I’m sayin’?”

Dean looked stunned. His whole life had been about love. He hadn’t had much of the roses and wine side of things, but he knew the kind of love that was embedded in your blood and your bones.

“I don’t know love? I went to Hell for Sam you ignorant asshole.”

“So did I,” his double growled. “But I also have emotions that didn’t originate in that goddamn fire in Lawrence.”

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the car. If anyone else had said that, he’d have tried to cave their head in. And maybe the only thing stopping him now was the thought that of all the people in the universe, this guy knew what he was talking about when it came to Sam. So Dean let the idea wash over him. He wasn’t made of stone. There’d been plenty of times when he’d started down a path that seemed like it might lead to a sunny warm place he could call home. But those roads were a dead end. He was a magnet for trouble and his smartest move was to get away fast, before he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Still, in a situation like this, you play the cards you’re holding. Dean spread his arms as far as the car would allow. “I lived with Lisa Braeden and her kid for a year. How’s that for love?”

“Lisa Braeden? Oh yeah.” He smiled, smug, and Dean knew his double’s world had included a Lisa too. “How’d that work out? I don’t see her around here, so I guess that answers my question.” He stepped out of the car and after a moment Dean followed, unsure if he’d won or lost their argument.

He grabbed the double by the sleeve of his shirt and tugged him back. “Anyone asks, we’re twins, got it?”

“Yeah, Mary-Kate, I got it.” Exchanging hostile looks, they entered the restaurant.


	3. Chapter 3

When they returned to the hotel room Dean’s double headed for the bathroom and they soon heard the shower running.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked. He was washed and dressed and sitting by the window.

“Guy’s impossible!” Dean groused, setting a bag of takeout in front of his brother.

“Really?” Sam tried not to smile too widely as he moved the laptop and spell book he’d been studying and opened the bag. “Because I’ve been living with someone just like him my whole life.”

“I’m not _just_ like him.” Dean collapsed into the seat opposite and put his feet up on the windowsill. “Turns out he’s the gay me.” Dean’s face brightened. “Hey. I just figured out what we can call him.”

“Hold it. What?” Sam looked toward the bathroom and back at his brother. “He’s a gay you?”

Dean nodded. “Gay as a box of frogs. He and Cas had a thing back in his dimension.”

His brother nodded and finished chewing. “That explain a lot. About him, I mean,” Sam added quickly. “Poor guy’s in mourning.”

“Well he’s not picking up where he left off. Not with my Cas. I mean our Cas. Dammit, you know what I mean.” Dean rapped his knuckles on the tabletop and pointed a finger toward the bathroom. “We need to keep an eye on him.”

Sam raised a brow. “Don’t you think you’re over-reacting? He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need a chaperone.”

“I’m not over-reacting,” Dean insisted. “Gay Dean’s a horndog. And Cas is,” he waved his hands, searching for the right word, “inexperienced. It’s on us to look out for him.”

“Castiel’s an angel, Dean. He’s probably seen people do sexual stuff that’s never even occurred to us. He’s millions, maybe billions of years old.”

Dean crossed his arms. “Exactly. He’s too old for gay me. Way too old.”

Sam laughed and shook his head.

“What?”

“You pulled this same thing when I wanted to date Louisa.”

Dean made a face. “Who the hell’s Louisa?”

“That nice redhead who worked at the bookstore in Oklahoma City? I took her to a movie and you called her a cradle robber? Ring a bell?”

“Dude, you were fifteen!”

“It was _one_ movie.”

“Chick was like, eighteen. There’s no way you were ready for her.”

Sam finished off his breakfast and tossed the crumpled bag into the garbage. “She was a beautiful sophisticated older woman, and you scared her off. I cried for a week.’

Dean was triumphant. “Which proves my point about you being too young to date her.”

San rolled his eyes and turned back to his laptop as Dean’s double came out of the shower, a towel around his waist. Dean noted that he still bore the bright red handprint on his shoulder, and wondered if that meant anything. Or if it meant anything that Cas had healed his away.

“Hey!” The double jerked his chin toward Dean. “Got anything I can wear? My clothes smell like geloid.”

* * *

Sam closed the spell book and the laptop and sat, staring at his notes. With the help of Bobby’s contact he’d made good progress translating the ritual. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Castiel, but given their history he found it easier to trust him when he had the whole picture. The language was more metaphorical than he was used to, but the bit about ‘the two becoming one like a rutting beast’ sounded pretty straightforward. He was no warlock, but he had eyes in his head and when he added in the information Dean had shared he was pretty sure he knew how Castiel planned to perform that portion of the ritual.

He put the notes into his backpack and decided not to mention this to Dean just yet. He thought about his own double, likely worried sick about his brother in their home dimension, and was sure he would agree.

* * *

“So Sherrif Mills, uh, Jody, called me this morning,” Sam said. “She’s got a job in Rawlins if you’re interested. Vampire nest.”

“Since when does she assign us cases?” Dean held up the book in his hands. “Besides we’re already on a job.”

“That’s what I told her.” Sam shrugged. “But Rawlins is only two hours away. We could knock it out in less than a day.” And if he and Dean went to Rawlins it would give Castiel and Dean’s double plenty of time alone. To do whatever.

Dean looked thoughtful. “We could. I’ll call Cas. See if he’s free.”

Dean held his cell to his ear as he waited for the call to go through. Soon he heard Castiel’s low voice. “Hello Dean.”

“Hey. What’re you up to today?”

“I’m in Prague, waiting for the Sedlec Ossuary to close.”

“Why’s that?”

Castiel sighed. “So I can collect the teeth of dead children for the portal spell.”

“Well that’s the creepiest thing I’ve heard today. You know, Sam’s got a bunch of teeth he took off that demon chick.”

“The ritual power of those teeth is exhausted. We need fresh teeth. Ritualistically fresh, that is. The teeth I’ll collect will actually be over five hundred years old.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I have to go. There’s a tour coming.”

Dean closed his phone and stuffed it in a pocket, looking pleased. “No Cas today. He’s on some bone collector thing.”

“So it’s the three of us,” Sam, said. “We can still knock out a vamp nest in a couple hours. Four hours there and back. You guys can take turns driving.” He knew that if he pushed Dean to bring the double he’d be more likely to insist the guy stay behind. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Fine. Let’s get it done while it’s still light out. But gay Dean stays here.”

“Really? You’re seriously gonna call him that?” He lowered his voice. “You know, Castiel said that the only difference between the two of you are your experiences, so do you think that maybe—”

“Shut it, Sammy. He stays here and that’s my final word.” Sam smiled inside. He was a genius. Now to get Dean out of the motel. Cas could collect the teeth and be back in plenty of time.

“You think it’s safe to leave Doppeldean on his own?” Sam asked.

“He can take care of himself.” Dean gestured at the weapon on the bed. “Guy’s got a freakin’ battleaxe!”

“Okay, but you were the one who said we needed to keep an eye on him.”

“And now I’m saying he stays here. He can research.”

Sam loved it when a plan came together.

Dean’s double entered the room, carrying clean laundry. “You guys only pay a dollar fifty a wash? That’s friggin’ awesome!”

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Now came the tricky part. He needed to get his message through to Doppeldean without his brother catching on that anything was up.

“Listen,” Sam said. “Dean and I are gonna go do a job. Vampire nest a few towns over. Shouldn’t take more than a half a day.”

“It’s not that we’re bailing on you,” Dean explained quickly. “But we can’t do any more on the ritual until Cas gets back with the ingredients. He’s in Prague picking up baby teeth or some shit.”

The double paused in his laundry sorting. “No problem. I’ll hold the fort. Have fun with the vamps.”

“No lookin’ at gay porn on the pay per view,” Dean announced loudly. He grabbed the duffle and carried it out to the car.

“Ignore him,” Sam said. He put a hand on the double’s back in a gesture he hoped communicated acceptance and approval. “We’ll be back in ten hours or so. You should be fine here.” He pulled a gun from his waistband and handed it over. “But uh, better safe than sorry, okay?”

The double took the gun. “Thanks, Sam.”

Sam nodded, trying to ignore the prickly heat creeping up his neck. “So uh, you and Cas do…what…you gotta do. And we’ll see you later.”

Dean’s double was looking at him curiously when Dean popped his head into the room and smacked the doorjamb loudly. “Let’s go, Sam. We’re burning daylight.”

“Yeah.” His brother shouldered his backpack. “I’m coming.”

Dean locked the door to the motel and pocketed the key, looking smug as hell.

* * *

Dean’s double turned off the overhead, closed the curtains, and turned on the lamp. He fiddled with the radio until he found a suitable station. He moved to where his jacket hung over the back of a chair and pulled out a pack of three condoms he’d bought at the 7-11 and set them on the bedside table.

He sat on the bed and interlocked his fingers in prayer. “Cas? It’s Dean. From the portal. Uh. I’m alone in the hotel room and those guys are headed to Rawlins on a job and they’re gonna be gone for hours. So if you’re ready for that thing we talked about….”

Cas appeared by the bed, looking slightly out of breath. It was a good look on him. “I came as soon as I heard you. I believe I severely frightened a tour guide.”

“I bet you did.” He ran his tongue across his lips but his mouth still felt dry. “So are we good to go? Ritual wise?”

Cas nodded and quickly shucked his coat and blazer. “I have all the ingredients. Are you still comfortable participating as I described it?”

“Oh yeah. The uh, 7-11 had condoms but no lube, so I—” The angel disappeared before Dean finished speaking. He was back in under a minute.

“Will this suffice?” With a heavy thud he set a 32oz container on the bedside table.

“Damn.” His eyes widened at the large pump-topped plastic bottle. “Yeah. That’ll do it. For like, six months, actually.” He twirled a circle with a finger on his chest. “So the blood thing…we do that before or after?”

“Before, according to the book. I’m happy to supply the blood.”

Dean’s double reached up over his shoulder and pulled off his t-shirt. His chest was marked with scars and his left deltoid bore a familiar handprint. Cas stared at the mark, his mouth agape.

“You still have it.”

“Of course.” He frowned. “You mean he doesn’t?”

Cas’s hand hovered over the mark. “No. I healed it.”

Dean’s double looked horrified. “Why?”

Cas dropped his hand. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Hey, that’s cool. It’s just, I’d never want to lose mine. That okay with you?”

“Absolutely, Dean.”

Dean smiled. Of all of them, he felt like Cas recognized him for himself, not for his resemblance to someone else. He watched Cas struggle to unbutton his cuffs and stepped in close, taking over. He peeled the shirt away and laid it on top of the angel’s suit jacket. Cas produced a knife and cut across his own arm.

“Whoa. Take it easy there.” Dean reached forward to quell the bleeding.

Cas smiled, touched by the concern. “It’s fine.” He dipped a finger in the blood and began to paint the marking on Dean’s torso. “We can recite our parts while we wait for this to dry.” He pulled a paper from his pants pocket. I’ve written yours out phonetically. I assumed you don’t speak Osage.”

“Thanks.”

Cas took a deep breath and began to make sounds. After a few minutes he stopped. “It’s your turn now.”

The hunter raised the paper and read, the words sounding breathy and lispy to his ear. When he reached the end Cas nodded.

“Excellent. After coitus we have seven days to complete the portion of the ritual that opens the portal.”

“Coitus, huh?” He ran a hand down the angel’s bare arm and interlocked their fingers. “Smooth talker.” The angel looked at him with open curiosity, and he felt lightheaded. It had been a long time since Cas had looked at him like that. He moved in close and ran a thumb over the angel’s lips before following it with his mouth. It was tentative and self-conscious, like none of the kisses he’d ever had with Cas before, yet it reminded him of everything he’d been missing in the past six months.

“This isn’t strange for you, is it?” Cas asked, when they broke apart so Dean could breathe. He could hear the amazement in the angel’s voice.

“Not even a little.” He laid a row of kisses along the angel’s collarbone and up his neck. Cas let out a breathy sigh at the sensations and arched into him.

“We’ve done this often?”

He smiled against Cas’s neck. “You’d be shocked how often.”

Cas ran his hands up Dean’s back, pulling him closer. “I don’t think I would be.” He kissed his shoulder near the stark handprint.

He caught Cas’ blue eyes in a steady gaze. “Anything doesn’t feel good, you say so, okay? We can stop anytime.”

“Not if we want to get you home we can’t.” Cas leaned in, running his tongue along the warm skin of his neck.

Dean’s nails grazed Cas’s back. “I’m not gonna do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I can find another way home.”

“Uncomfortable does not describe how I feel right now.” Cas stroked Dean’s nipple with a fingertip and smiled when it elicited a gasp.

Dean’s tongue explored Castiel’s mouth as he fumbled with the angel’s belt and let his pants fall to the carpet. Then he broke the kiss and shimmied out of his own clothes. Castiel watched, then removed his pants and stood waiting.

“Dude,” Dean tried unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh. “You gotta take off the socks and shoes too.”

“Oh.” Castiel obliged. “Do you have a preference as to position?” he asked, suddenly nervous. “The ritual isn’t specific.”

“Cas and I used to switch it up. But for this? Yeah, I have a preference.” He pushed the angel onto his back on the bed and moved until his lips hovered over the angel’s stomach. He ran a tongue along the skin at the waistband of Castiel’s boxers. “I’d like to go down on you, then I want you inside me.”

“Oh!” Castiel flushed and looked away. “I’d assumed you’d want to penetrate me.” In response to the confused look on Dean’s face he added, “As a show of dominance.”

Dean looked up at him, cocked a smile and winked. “Angel, you could break me in half. You’re plenty dominant.”

* * *

They’d just passed Alcova when Sam called Sheriff Mills to let her know they were on their way to Rawlins to clear the vamp nest.

“Aw sugar!” Jody said. “I put Garth on it after I talked to you. He hit the place first thing this morning.”

“Oh.” Sam tried not to sound disappointed. “Okay. How’d it go?”

“No problems. It was smaller than we thought. Sorry if I jumped the gun, Sam. Garth was in the area and you didn’t sound so keen on it last night,” Jody said. “Was I wrong?”

“No. No. It’s fine.” Sam glanced at his brother who was now giving him quick anxious glances and mouthing the word ‘what?’ at him. “We’ve still got work to do in Casper anyhow. Thanks, Sheriff, uh, Jody.” He ended the call. “Looks like Garth took care of that Rawlins job.”

Dean swore and took the first ramp off Route 220.

Sam thought about Doppeldean and Castiel, and what they might be doing at the motel. He needed to stall. “How about stopping for lunch?”

Dean frowned. “You got a tapeworm? You ate breakfast like, two hours go. If I’m not hungry, why the hell are you hungry?”

Sam shrugged, scouring his brain for something to keep them away from the motel. “I’ve got more body mass to fuel than you do.”

“Look in the glove compartment. I think there’s a banana or something.”

“Come, on, we can’t just stop somewhere? Not even for a coffee?”

“There’s coffee at the motel.”

“I’ll check in with Cas and see how he’s coming along with those baby teeth.” Sam dialed, but got no answer. That was not reassuring.

An hour and fifteen minutes after they left they pulled into the parking lot outside the Sundowner Motel.

“I still think we should check out the library at the college,” Sam insisted. “It’ll take forty minutes, tops.”

Dean gave him a look that asked if he’d recently had a lobotomy. “Big occult collection at the college library in Casper, is there? They got a section on inter-dimensional travel or demonic rituals?”

“Don’t get all pissy with me just because you didn’t get to kill anything today,” Sam groused.

“It just woulda been nice if Jody’d called to say the job was off the table, is all I’m saying,” Dean said.

His brother had been bitching about missing out on the Rawlins job all the way back. Sam hoped he could parlay that into a session of complaining over coffee or beers, but had no luck. He looked at his watch. They’d been gone for just over an hour. He hoped that was enough. Hell, he’d known Dean to have sex, shower, and be back in the Impala in under twenty minutes. He hoped his brother’s double moved as fast.

* * *

“I told her we were busy,” Sam said for the third time in the past thirty minutes.

“Fine. Let’s drop it.” Dean cocked his head and listened. Someone was playing Kashmir. Bobbing his head to the guitar riff, he put the key into the lock and swung the door open. The music got louder, and Dean felt wave of affection over his double’s choice in music. “It just woulda been a nice break if we could kill a few vamps and maybe—”

He stopped, frozen in the doorway. His eyes widened at the sight of the sweaty bodies on the bed. His double was straddling Cas, and Dean didn’t need to use his imagination to figure out what was going on.

“What the hell?” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was speaking.

At the sound of the key in the lock his double had pulled a gun from under a pillow, pivoted, and trained it on him, his aim steady despite his heavy breathing. Cas let out a growl of frustration or annoyance, and in a rustle of sheets both men disappeared.

Sam walked past him into the room and set his duffel on the other bed.

“Well,” he said at last. “I bet you’re wishing you’d gone to the library now.”

“Did you know about that?” Dean asked, pointing accusingly at the rumpled bed. “Was that what all that ‘Let’s grab a drink, I want lunch, let’s swing by the planetarium’ crap was about?”

Sam shrugged. “I can’t say it was entirely unexpected.”

“Seriously?” Dean looked at his brother as if he’d grown a second head.

“I just always figured it’d be you and Cas I walked in on one day.”

“Funny.” Dean threw his bag forcefully onto a chair. “It reeks in here. I’m gonna grab some air.” He stomped to the door, paused, returned to grabbed a half-empty bottle of whisky from a dresser, and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

“Don’t stop, please,” Castiel begged, his voice carried on gasps.

“Where the hell are we?” The other Dean looked around, his concentration broken.

“Next door. Room 23.” Castiel ran an appreciative hand down Dean’s sweat-slick torso and smiled. “I’m just glad it wasn’t occupied.” He thrust, his hips lifting Dean from the mattress. The constriction, heat, and friction were wonderful. And Dean, his body, his touch, and his focused adoring attention, that was exquisite. “We have to finish,” he said, reeling from the endorphins and the feel of Dean’s body clenching around him. “For the ritual.”

“Right.” Dean’s eyes drank in the sight below him. Cas, awestruck, and euphoric, his lips parted as he dragged air into his lungs. “For the ritual.” He moved his hips, grinding against him as hard as he could. Cas planted his heels, eager for leverage. They rocked together, slowly at first, and then faster until they were slamming and Dean was whimpering low in his throat.

“Dean?” Cas looked up at him, his body trembling and his eyes wide with panic. “Something’s happening.”

“Damn right it is, Angel.” Dean gasped, his whole body teetering on the edge between perfect and too much. And then as he had always done with Cas, he grabbed his hand and pressed it tight against the mark on his shoulder. He watched Cas’s face as he struggled to process the overwhelming pleasure of his first orgasm. He was beautiful like this, and it had been a very long six months. Dean felt tears welling at his eyes. He let them come.

* * *

Castiel lay on the bed in room 23, his nerves buzzing. He felt exhausted, yet alive in a way he hadn’t before. The ritual had called only for copulation, but Dean had made love to him. It was a revelation in the Latin sense of the word, unveiling things about himself, about Dean, and about what they could be together. It was like flying and falling at the same time. No wonder people did this.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Dean was touching him, running his hand over his vessel, but the movement seemed to express comfort and care rather than anything urgent. It was lovely and he didn’t want it to stop. Ever.

“I had no idea it would be like that.” He saw the affection in this Dean’s gaze, the wonder, and his eagerness to please. It was so much better than the disappointment, shame, and resentment he usually saw in Dean’s eyes. For a moment he was tempted to imagine that he’d just arrived in that barn in Sioux Falls, and that this was a beginning instead of an ending.

Dean grinned. “There’ve been plenty of times we just went at it. Hell, one time we broke the legs off my couch. But tonight was special.” Dean reached out to cup Castiel’s jaw and he leaned into it.

“Was it pleasing for you Dean?” He hoped his inexperience hadn’t been a disappointment. He had disappointed Dean so many times in his life already.

“Are you joking?” Dean asked. He stared at Castiel a few moments before he added, “It was right up there with the best of them.”

Relief flooded through him. Castiel sat up, supporting himself on an elbow. “I’m grateful to have had this experience,” he said. “Thank-you.”

“It doesn’t have to end, you know.”

“It’s a nice thought, but once the portal is closed—”

“Come with me.” Dean leaned forward and kissed him, soft and moist, on the mouth. “It breaks my heart to see you unhappy here. I love you.”

The statement felt like waves breaking over him. He had longed to hear those words from Dean’s mouth. He could feel the truth of them and the promise they held. This Dean cared. Wanted. Loved. And all he had to do to have it was say yes. He wondered about his dead double, and what he had done to elicit such intense love from Dean Winchester. He wondered about himself, and if it had been his actions or some more fundamental flaw about him that had caused things to turn out differently in this reality. Perhaps in time he would disappoint this Dean, too. He was hopeful and afraid all at once.

“Give me some time to think about it.”

“You got a week,” Dean teased, getting up and walking backward toward the shower, reluctant to tear his eyes away. “Or else we’ll have to do this ritual thing all over again.”

* * *

Dean was leaning against the Impala, drinking whisky when the door to room 23 opened and his double emerged, fully dressed. Dean dropped the bottle and advanced, swinging as soon as he was within range.

His double didn’t block the first punch, but took the hit and stood rubbing his jaw. “Just so I know, are you pissed ‘cause I made a move or ‘cause you didn’t?”

Dean cocked his fist back but held off on swinging. “I’m pissed ’cause I come back from a job and find you riding cowboy on my friggin’ angel!”

“Your angel?” The doubled huffed. “That’s rich.”

“Oh, what? You screw him one time and now you’re what? Picking out china patterns?”

“I’m not gonna apologize. I love Cas.”

Deans hands clenched as if he was about to pull out his hair. “Stop saying that. You’re making it sound like you’re the only one who cares.”

“I care a hell of a lot more than you do. He’s just a weapon to you.”

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with having someone that powerful in our corner. But I can do my job without him. Have for years.”

“Well maybe you oughta get used to it, ‘cause I asked Cas to come home with me when the portal opens.”

“You what?” Dean’s stomach sank and he felt the whiskey lurch inside of him, threatening to make a fast reappearance.

“You heard me.”

“Dude, you had your shot” Dean pointed a finger. “Your angel _died_. Don’t think you can steal mine.”

His double shook his head as if it weighed too much. “I’ve been here less than day, and there’s no geloids, and I slept six hours without being attacked, and I can buy beer and pie at the 7-11. But you know what? This dimension sucks ass. Cas is miserable and the only guy who coulda’ changed that didn’t. You really do have intimacy issues, don’t you?”

“Did Cas say that? You can’t trust anything that guy says!”

“Screw you, man.” His double turned and disappeared into room 22, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Cas appeared beside the Impala, fully dressed. Dean tried not to think about the fact that the first time he’d seen Cas naked the angel had been screwing some other guy. Or about the fact that the guy he’d picked essentially _was_ Dean in all the ways that mattered to Cas. He’d never felt a more complete or devastating rejection. In that moment he would have gladly crawled back into hell.

“Why are you drinking and arguing with people in the parking lot?” Cas asked, his voice stern. “You should come inside.”

Dean managed a mocking laugh. “That what he said? Your new boyfriend?”

“You’re being childish.” Dean hated it when Cas used that parental tone on him.

‘Un-freaking-believable,” he bit out. “The second I turn my back you’re banging the guy. Did you even think about how this was gonna affect me?” He tried to push the image of Cas’ skin glowing with sweat out of his mind.

“This bothers you?” Cas seemed amused, which annoyed Dean even more. For years he’d made allowances for Cas. Angels didn’t have the same kinds of feelings as human beings, Sam had said. You couldn’t hold them to the same standard. So he’d taken his feelings for him, as fragile and hesitant as they were, and crushed them into powder. Because he thought that was what Cas wanted. And not even 24 hours in with his goddamn double and Cas was having sex and trying to give the guy his friggin last name. And now he was going to walk out of his life forever. It was like the friggin’ Leviathan betrayal all over again.

“Does it bother me? You seriously askin’ me that?” He thought about Cas and his double together, and for a moment the phrase ‘double-murder-suicide’ flashed though Dean’s mind. But he’d hate to stick Sam with the messy aftermath.

“You sleep with people all the time, Dean. How is this any different?”

“’Cause it is. What happens on the road…none of those women…it’s just different, okay?”

“Your attitude strikes me as hypocritical.”

“Look man, I had no idea that my recreational activities bothered you.”

“Dean.”

Dean wasn’t sure how Cas managed to pack so much skepticism into his name like that.

“Okay, maybe I had an inkling.” He ran a hand trough his hair, and sucked on his bottom lip, looking hesitant and disheveled. He blinked furiously and swallowed, tasting salt. “But if what I’m feeling right now, if this is how you felt every time I hooked up, then I’m sorry. I’m really fuckin’ sorry, okay?”

“Your apology isn’t necessary.”

“You know he wants you to go with him, right? Back to Narnia or wherever?”

“He indicated as much.”

Dean took a long gulp from the bottle. “You considering it?”

“Shouldn’t I? The chance to be wanted. To be in love. It’s tempting.”

Dean turned toward him and he could see so much on Cas’ face that it was painful to look. Hurt. Disappointment. Weariness. Hope. He looked at Cas’ lips, no different than they’d looked the day before, except now they knew a secret. They knew what it felt like when the two of them kissed. Dean leaned in, and wondered if it would really be so bad if he could know too. And then he asked himself if he could stop once he started down that road. And if it was fair to go there knowing all the bullshit that he dragged with him. He asked himself what was best for Cas. And as usual, it wasn’t Dean Winchester. At least not the Dean Winchester he knew how to be.

When he spoke it almost a whisper. “We’ve been through such shit together. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory. Who knows what’s coming next. If you can be happy with someone, I ain’t gonna stop you.”

Castiel nodded and turned toward the motel. “I was afraid you would say that.”

* * *

Sam glanced out the window at where Castiel and Dean were arguing. After his brother had stormed out, he’d had time to think, and an idea had occurred to him. Now he needed to broach the subject with Doppeldean.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam said, approaching his brother’s double where he sat on the bed, looking meditatively down at the rumpled sheets. “Can we talk a minute?”

Doppeldean looked up at him. “You gonna bitch me out too?”

“No, I’m not.” Sam pulled a chair forward. “I get it. Hell, if Jess had come through with you, I would’ve, well…” He let out a chuckle. “We’d still be doing it now.” He tucked his hair behind an ear and when he spoke again his voice was soft. “You said that your Cas is dead. Can I ask what happened?”

“I don’t even know, man. He was having trouble with the other angels. They weren’t thrilled about us being together, despite what he said about God not caring about orientation or whatever. And then one day he just didn’t show.” His mouth hardened. “After six months I knew that if he hadn’t come back to me,” he looked at the floor, “he had to be dead.”

Sam nodded, thoughtful. “What did you do?”

“Waited. Prayed. Tried a summoning spell that did jack-all. I drank, but Sammy pulled me outta that.” He gave his double’s brother a crooked smile. “He’s pretty awesome that way.”

They both looked up as Castiel entered the room, frowning.

“Hey Cas.” Sam felt a spike of guilt. If he was right—and he thought he was—then he might be quashing whatever the two of them had going. He was reminded of the plot to My Favourite Wife, where Cary Grant’s character has his missing wife declared legally dead and remarries, only to discover on his honeymoon that she’s been shipwrecked on an island the whole time. He’d watched it on some public broadcasting station in Maine, or was it Vermont? Good movie. But it was a lousy situation to see his friends in.

“Hello Sam.” Castiel moved to sit by Doppeldean and they held hands. It was automatic, natural, as if they’d been doing it for years. Sam felt like he was about to kill a butterfly.

“I was just telling uh, Dean here, that I have a theory about your counterpart. The other Castiel.” He looked earnestly at Doppeldean. “I think it’s possible he might be in Heaven’s dungeon.”

Dean squinted at him. “Heaven’s whatnow?”

“Dungeon.” Castiel dropped the hand and Sam thought he saw disappointment on the angel’s face before the placid mask returned. “Rebellious angels, the ones who don’t respond to discipline, get sent to the dungeon. It’s like Hell for angels.”

“Hell?” Doppeldean’s eyes widened. “Like with torture?”

Sam hesitated. “Uh….yeah.”

The double leaned forward and hid his face in his hands, making a sound between a cry of pain and a moan. “And I thought the past six months couldn’t suck any more.”

Dean’s leaned into Castiel and the angel wrapped his arms around him. It interesting how casually affectionate they were, and Sam found himself wishing it was his own brother sitting on the bed with Cas.

“I’m really, really, sorry,” Sam said, his jaw tight. “But there’s a reason I’m telling you this.”

“You mean besides making me cry like a friggin’ baby?” he asked. And seeing his fists clinging to Castiel’s coat, Sam thought the hunter did seem small and helpless somehow.

“Yeah.” Sam leaned in and touched his arm. “I think we can break him out.”

Doppeldean looked skeptical. “A jailbreak. Out of Heaven’s dungeon?”

Sam smiled. “I’ve got some experience in this area.”

Castiel nodded, suddenly energized with new purpose. “As do I.”

Doppeldean released Castiel’s jacket and stood. “Then let’s go. Let’s do it!”

“The ritual needs to be performed at a specific time of day,” Cas explained. “We could do it tomorrow morning.”

“We should bring Dean in on this,” Sam said. When Doppeldean looked skeptical Sam added, “He’d good at what he does. He’s really good.”

Doppeldean held up a palm. “Wait. If my Cas is in angel prison then he’s in the one in my dimension, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “That’s why we’ll have to go through the portal with you. All of us.”

Doppeldean looked like his mind was reeling. It was a lot to take in. “I wished there was some way to give him a heads-up. Let him know we’re coming.”

“I wouldn’t recommend prayer,” Castiel warned, his mouth twisting as if tasting something unpleasant. “It could be overheard.”

Doppeldean spoke through gritted teeth. “You mean those bastards can tap my friggin’ prayers?”

“Yes. But there may be another way.” A smile ghosting across his lips. “You asked why I healed Dean of his handprint.”

“Yeah. Why did you do that?” The double and Sam both gave him their full attention. Sam had figured it was just another indication of Dean and Castiel’s slowly disintegrating friendship.

“Women kept touching it.” Castiel looked embarrassed. “During sex. It became painful.”

“Painful?” Doppeldean looked worried. “I touch it all the time. Cas never said it hurt him. Jesus! I wasn’t hurting you, was I?”

“Not that kind of pain.” Castiel put a hand on Doppeldean’s thigh and left it there. “The mark connected Dean’s soul and my grace. I felt him every time he touched it. And I felt them, sometimes. The women. It became distracting. So I healed it.”

“Aw Cas,” Sam reached out a hand to the angel. “I’m sure Dean didn’t know.”

The angel sighed. “Probably not.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t tell him.”

Dean pulled his t-shirt sleeve back and slotted his fingers lightly over the welts. “Does mine still work?”

Castiel took a stuttering breath and blushed. “Yes. If your Cas is alive, even if he’s imprisoned in another dimension, he feels it too. He probably finds it reassuring.”

“That’s good. Can he like, read my mind through it?”

“No. We only get feelings. But,” Castiel tilted his head. “Do you know Morse code, Dean?”

Doppeldean’s face lit up. “Damn right I do.”

“Nice one, Cas.” Sam smiled, appreciating the plan.

Doppeldean lowered his voice. “Listen, when we, uh,” His eyes darted to Sam and back again, “when I grabbed your hand and…did he feel it?”

Castiel smiled thoughtfully. “Did he feel our own grace when I touched your mark? That’s an interesting metaphysical question. I look forward to learning the answer when we meet face to face.”

* * *

When Dean came back inside the bottle of whiskey he carried was nearly empty.

“What are you all lookin’ at?” he asked belligerently.

“Sam suspects that my own double is incarcerated in heaven’s dungeon. That would explain why Dean hasn’t heard from him in six months.”

Dean’s eyes shifted to his double. “You’re calling him Dean now?”

“My point,” Sam said, trying to short-circuit his brother’s drunken argument, “is that we can break him out. I think all of us should go through the portal. What do you think, Dean? Up for a rescue mission?”

“Rescue Cas and stick it to those winged pricks in the process?” Dean’s eyes narrowed but Sam could see him turning the idea over in his mind. He didn’t hate it. Dean’s lips curved up and leaned with his back to the dresser. “We’d need someone on this side to keep the portal open.” His eyebrows raised. “Garth still around after that Rawlins job?”

“Only one way to find out.” Sam pulled out his phone and began to text.

Dean opened his wallet and did a quick inventory of his cash and credit cards.

“I’m gonna go grab some food and then I’m gonna rent a room of my own.”

“Is that necessary?” Castiel asked.

“Well I can’t sleep here now,” Dean bit out, glaring at the sex-rumpled bed.

“We can get someone in to change the bedding,” Sam suggested, eyes still on his phone.

“No good, Sam.” Dean sighed and ran a hand across his neck. “Is there anyplace you two haven’t done it yet?”

“Room 21,” Castiel offered.

“Great.” Dean pocketed his wallet. “I’ll be back to get my bag.”

Sam lifted his head. “Garth says he can swing by tomorrow morning. Why don’t we all grab a late lunch and decide about rooms after we’ve eaten?”

Dean crossed his arms and dipped his chin. “Yeah. Okay.”

Doppeldean stood. “Just give me a minute to wash my face, would you?”

As the bathroom door closed it suddenly occurred to Sam that if he didn’t do something right away he might end up trying to sleep while Castiel and Doppeldean had desperate, not-as-quiet-as-they-think sex in the bed across from him. They were definitely getting another room.


	5. Chapter 5

After a mostly silent late lunch at a Biggersons by Highway 251 the group returned to the Sundowner Motel, lethargic and morose. Dean rented room 21 and returned for his duffel, at which point Sam joined him, leaving the already sullied room 22 to Cas and Doppeldean. Anxious about being alone with a man whose partner was no longer presumed dead, Castiel had mentioned getting some air and stepped outside.

The sky was turning orange now as he leaned against the Impala, staring out across the parking lot. Castiel reflected on the paradoxical nature of experience. Feeling so many emotions in such quick succession was exhausting. He’d gone from years of unrequited love to ecstasy and contentment in Dean’s arms. He’d contemplated becoming his lover on a permanent basis. And now he found himself back where he’d started, and unsure whether it was better or worse to know what he was missing. He kicked a crumpled Orange Crush can, sending it skittering across the parking lot, the highway, and into an overgrown lot on the other side. Behind him he heard a door open and close and boots scuff across the asphalt.

“Hey you.” Dean’s double bumped against him with his shoulder.

“Hey.” Cas bumped back. He enjoyed these casual moments of affection and would miss them when they were gone.

“So, I know that part of the ritual’s over, but we’ve got the room to ourselves. No interruptions. Hell, I’ll barricade the door if you want.”

Cas blushed. “It’s okay, Dean. You don’t have to let me down easy.”

“In what world is asking you to spend the night with me ‘letting you down easy’?”

He turned to look at Dean. “If your Castiel is alive then obviously your offer is rescinded. I understand. I can cope just fine without the pity sex.”

He chuckled, and Castiel felt the affection in his laugh. “I swear to God, you and Dean are the friggin’ kings of jumping to conclusions. I didn’t say anything about taking back my offer.”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“The offer stands, Cas.” Dean leaned in and ran his nose along the line of Cas’ neck. “Of course if you’ve changed your mind, that’s up to you.” Castiel turned his head and now their lips were almost touching. So close.

“You want to rescue him, don’t you?” Castiel had spent time in Heaven’s dungeon. He knew what his counterpart was enduring. Surely Dean wouldn’t abandon him there. Not if he loved him.

“Of course.” The hunter stepped back and turned his eyes to the sky as if praying. “My God, when Sam mentioned torture, I lost my mind. If he’s alive, if he’s there, we have to get him out.”

“Then I’m confused.”

“Say we do rescue him. Why would I want you to leave? I love you. I love both of you.” He slumped against the car. “Hell, if there’s a billion different dimensions I probably love a billion of you feathery bastards.”

Castiel squinted. “So you’re proposing what, exactly?”

Dean’s double shrugged. “I get a bigger bed and the three of us live at my place. It’s not like you take up a ton of closet space. You’ve both only got the one outfit.” He smiled hopefully at the angel. “I’m saying the three of us set up shop as hunters and make every evil thing north of Florida afraid to sleep at night. Sound good?”

Cas tilted his head. Dean made it seem so easy. As if wanting was enough. “Let me think about it.”

He held up the key to room 22. “You want to think about it inside?”

Castiel sighed and grabbed the key. “You know I do.” He led the way.

* * *

In room 21 Sam was having an argument with his brother. It had an odd feeling of deja-vu about it, despite Sam knowing he’d never said the words out loud before.

“Forget what Cas said about me and that guy having the same soul. He’s wrong.” Dean pulled off a boot and threw it angrily toward his duffel. “Obviously he’s gay for Cas, but I’m not.” He threw the second boot.

“Whatever” Sam said, his disbelief clear. “If you don’t do something soon, like really soon, you’re gonna lose Cas. I see how he looks at the guy.”

“How is Cas looking at him?”

“Like he used to look at you.”

“Shit.” Dean pulled back the covers on the bed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not into Cas that way. End of story. You’ve known me your whole life Sam. Does boinkin’ a dude sound like somethin’ I’d do?”          

“The Dean I grew up with wasn’t a coward.” Sam turned off the lamp.

Dean lay on his back, staring into the dark.

* * *

Time passed differently in heaven. Castiel had spent thousands of years contemplating a single thought, the movement of atoms, or the way the universe breathed like a living organism. Time in heaven’s dungeon passed differently still, divided into time when he feared torture and time when all that existed was pain. Almost as excruciating as the sessions with Thaddeus and his angel blade was hearing Dean’s increasingly anguished prayers, but being unable to respond. And then the prayers had stopped, which was a different type of torment. Abandonment, with a side of failure.

It had been one of those moments when all that existed was pain. Naomi and Thaddeus were reminding him that his love for Dean Winchester was a selfish flaw, an insult to their father’s will. He fought the temptation to scream for forgiveness in the hope that the anguish would stop. He would not pretend that loving Dean was wrong. Then suddenly he had detached from the pain and existed in a moment of perfect bliss and awe, followed by warm contentment and the joy of discovery. He felt Dean again, as if he were there with him, and his grace rejoiced. He felt his own grace link across his connection to Dean’s soul, like a feedback loop, and he felt himself, happy, and more powerful than he had ever been.

His sudden lack of screaming and the flood of holy light suffusing his body alarmed his tormentors. Such power came from God, they agreed, and if Castiel now possessed it…. He became aware that he was reading their thoughts, which he found curious since that was a power reserved for higher order angels. It was as if he had abruptly become a seraph.

The torture stopped while Naomi waited for orders regarding what to do with him. Castiel attempted to reconcile himself to eternal imprisonment, certain he would remain in his cell long past the end of Dean’s lifespan. He began to wonder if Dean were dead already, and if the wonderful feelings that possessed him had been occasioned by the passing of Dean’s soul into heaven.

And then the messages began.

First he felt Dean again, his presence coursing through his grace. It felt like coming home. And then the feeling began to stutter and became a series of pulses like electricity. He didn’t know how long he felt them before they coalesced into words, but when they did the effect was immediate and exhilarating. Two words, repeated.

“Love you. Love you. Love you.” And then, “Coming to get you. Hang on, Angel.”

Castiel meditated, replaying the words of the messages, and dwelling in the feelings they elicited. He would hang on. And somehow, Dean would come for him. He had faith.

* * *

Dean turned the key in the ignition, honked the horn and shared a wave with Sam and Garth, who were leaning against Garth’s Ranchero Squire.

“Sam’s gonna check us out of the motel, then him and Garth’ll meet us at the school.” He pulled onto the road as he spoke, looking at the road but not his double.

“Can we trust that big-eared droopy guy to guard the portal?”

“Garth? Yeah. He’s a little weird, but you’d be surprised what he pulls off.”

“If you say so. Cas said he’d grab the ingredients and meet us there.”

Dean swallowed his annoyance at receiving messages from Cas through his double and pushed a tape into the player. His double smiled when the music started. “Hey, it’s that song again. Turn it up.”

“You mean Kashmir?” Dean tried not to remember that the last time he heard it his angel was balls deep in his double. He nudged the volume up, but just barely.

The double bobbed his head to the music. “Cashmere? Like the sweater?”

“No!” The infuriating sexual images were pushed from his mind. “What kind of Winchester are you that you don’t know Kashmir?”

His double shrugged, as if to say, ‘It’s just one of those things.’ “Who does it?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “You don’t recognize friggin’ Led Zeppelin?”

“Are they popular here or somethin’?”

“They’re only the greatest rock band of all time.”

His double looked interested, as he goddamn well should. “They got more songs as good as this?”

“Do they? Aw, man!” Dean smiled despite himself and reached for a tape. “Wait ‘til you hear Ramble On!”

* * *

Garth Fitzgerald IV was in full effect. First Sheriff Mills had called him for that vamp nest situation. Handled. Now Sam and Dean had called him in on a cool inter-dimensonal rescue mission. He’d had a nice drive to Casper and met an angel. The dude looked like he was doing Hellblazer cosplay, but that was cool too. And then he’d gotten milkshakes. This was one fine day.

Sam put his cell away. “Uh, that was Dean. They’re gonna be a little late.”

“Are they arguing?” Castiel asked, frowning. He sat on a stack of gym mats to wait.

“No. They’re shopping. For music.” Sam didn’t bother to hide his confusion.

“Then we may as well pass the time.” Garth held out a cardboard tray of takeout cups. “Shake?”

“Thanks.” Sam took the cold cup and sucked thoughtfully on the straw.

“Castiel?” Garth extended the tray toward the angel. They’d only just met but sharing food was a great way to bond with a new friend.

“I don’t require food.”

“Chocolatey protein and carbohydrates,” he shook the tray slightly as if the movement would make the drinks more appealing. “Delicious.”

“I’m fine.”

Garth took a shake for himself and sat cross-legged on the floor. “So, you guys checked out this double of Dean’s? Made sure he’s not an evil robot?”

Castiel laughed and Sam looked embarrassed, but Garth wasn’t sure why. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about being taken in by the evil robot of a loved one. Could happen to anyone.

“He’s definitely human,” Castiel assured him. “I’ve checked him over quite thoroughly.”

Sam choked on his milkshake.

Garth slurped noisily from his own shake. “So. Inter-dimensional portal, huh?” He looked at the gelatinous grey wall, impressed but unalarmed.

“Yes.” Castiel said. “We’re going to rescue my double from Heaven’s dungeon so he can be reunited with his lover, Dean, and possibly enter a three-way relationship with the both of us.”

Sam choked again.

“Cool.” As a man of the world, Garth knew that love came in a variety of shapes and sizes. He pulled a bag from his pocket. “Anyone care for a Skittles?”

* * *

The Deans pushed open the door and descended into the basement of the old school. As they dropped their bags onto the dusty floor Garth rushed to meet them, a wide goofy smile breaking across his face.

“Whoa. Negadean! Nice to meet you.” He extended his arms and approached, embracing the double in an enthusiastic hug.

Beside him, Dean smirked. “You’ve been Garthed. Relax. You get used to it.”

Garth broke the hug and stepped back, still beaming. “Congratulations! I hear you’re settling down.”

Dean’s brow wrinkled and he glared at Garth. “Whaddya mean?”

“Not you, Dean. Him and Castiel.” He turned to the double and punched him gently on the shoulder. “Good for you! Hey, if you guys decide to tie the knot I know a great place for a bachelor party. Buddy of mine owns a pottery studio. We could make our own mugs!”

Dean’s double looked stunned. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Castiel rose from the gym mats and pulled a bag of teeth and assorted herbs from his coat. “I’ll start the ritual. I propose I go through the portal first and if I don’t burst into flame then the Deans and Sam follow behind.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Sam hefted a large bag of salt from the floor and ran a fresh line across the top of the stairs. “Garth, if we’re not back in a day lock this place up tight. If we’re not back in a week uh,” he paused, perhaps thinking of all the times he and Dean had fallen off the radar, sometimes for as long as a year, only to surface again.

“Just keep waitin’?” Garth offered.

Sam’s dimpled smile flashed out sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“No problemo mi amigo.”

Doppeldean pulled Garth aside. “Anything that looks like a big squishy bug with teeth comes through, you cleave its head in half and cut off its uh, sticky out bits, ‘kay? Otherwise you’ll be dealing with a mess of larvae that’ll come at you like friggin’ piranha.”           

 “Dude, Relax. I’m on it.” Garth hefted an axe. “You guys have a safe trip. I’ll hang here and make sure nothing gets through without a hallpass.”

Castiel arranged the ritual ingredients on the floor and began to chant.

“So,” Garth said, leaning toward the Deans, as they waited for the revised ritual to create a bi-directional portal door, “which one of you is better at Mortal Kombat?”

“What?” both Deans asked.

“You mean you haven’t gone mano-a-mano on the Sega Genesis?” Garth looked shocked, as if that would be his first order of business when faced with his own inter-dimensional soul twin.

“We’ve been a little busy,” Dean retorted.

Garth gave him an admonishing frown. “There’s always time for Sega Genesis.”

“Not today there isn’t.” Dean pulled a machete out of his duffel and his double gripped his broadaxe.

Castiel finished chanting. “Wish me luck,” he said before stepping forward and pushing through the gelatinous portal. He disappeared, as if into vertical quicksand.

* * *

Inside the portal Castiel encountered something he hadn’t expected—an apartment door, complete with peephole. He grasped the handle, turned it, and stepped through. At his feet a man in a sleeveless shirt let out a shout and scrambled backwards, scattering tools as he went. Castiel scanned the room until his eyes fell on a familiar face.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Castiel?” Sam Winchester stepped forward, his face hopeful. “Is Dean with you?”

Before he could answer two Deans emerged through the door, followed by another Sam. Doppeldean sprung forward and grasped his brother in a happy embrace.

The man on the floor slammed the door shut with his foot and raised himself up from the floor. “Damn. It’s like a clown car!”

Doppeldean turned at the sound. “Since when did the portal have a friggin’ door?”

Sam smirked. “Since I got Ash to make one. We needed to block it, but I didn’t want to stop you from getting back. I was gearing up for a rescue mission.”

“You built an inter-dimensional security door?” Dean looked at his watch. “In like, 48 hours?”

Ash shrugged. “It’s not finished yet. Otherwise your buddy here wouldn’t’ve been able to just walk through.”

Castiel turned and examined the door. From this side the device looked part home-made computer and part Enochian science lesson. “This is an innovative use of membrane theory.”

“Damn right it is!” Ash puffed out his chest and sucked air in through his nose.

Castiel ran his hand over the symbols scribbled onto the door. “What were your thoughts behind the use of the future progressive verb tense here?” He pointed to a batch of symbols in the upper right corner of the door.

While Ash and Castiel chatted about the ritual power of Enochian grammar, Doppeldean introduced Sam and Dean and caught his brother up on their theory about Cas and their intention to retrieve him from heaven’s dungeon.

Doppelsam nodded. “So how do we get into heaven?” He looked anxiously at his brother. “Nobody has to die, do they?”

Doppeldean shook his head. “Nah. Its just another portal.” He pointed to Sam and Castiel. “These crazy bastards have done it before.”

Dean looked at the portal door. “This rig’ll keep the portal open? I’d like to know we can get back home.”

Ash snorted a laugh. “Of course it’ll work. Your dimension’s location is locked in six ways from Sunday.”

“Ideally,” Castiel said, “we should enter the inter-dimensional portal at the same time of day we came in, to maximize our chance of returning to the correct time point in our own dimension.”

Ash looked at his watch, stark against his pale arm. “Y’all showed up here at 10:23am.”

“So we should return at 10:23 tomorrow morning. We’ve got almost 24 hours to get into heaven and back again.”

“So what’s the plan?” Dean asked.

The angel looked thoughtful. “Initially I intended to locate the current portal and secure access by force or subterfuge. But meeting Ash has given me a better idea.”

Sam looked up from where he and his double had been lost in quiet discussion. “Can’t we use the portal in Wichita? It’s familiar territory. Not likely to be heavily guarded. What state are we in, anyway?”

“South Dakota, Man,” Ash said. “Where the people rule.” He raised his fists.

Castiel shook his head. “Metatron hasn’t taken over heaven in this dimension so that portal doesn’t exist.” He nodded his head at Ash. “I propose we construct one using a variation on Metatron’s portal sigil. Ash’s understanding of sacred geometry is adequate to the task.”

Ash looked offended at being described as adequate, but his eyes gleamed at the idea of building a backdoor to heaven. “I figure it’ll take a few hours. I’ve got most of what I need here.”

Doppeldean stepped forward. “In that case I propose we grab something to eat.” He pointed at his double. “Man, you have got to try the pie at Benny’s diner.”

Dean smiled. “Always up for pie.”

“Actually” Doppelsam said, running a hand through his long hair, “I kind of wanted to show Sam that new salad place. The one where you pick all the topping and they make it in front of you?”

Both Deans rolled their eyes. “Fine, Bambi. Go graze,” Doppeldean said. He looked at his watch. “Back in an hour.”


	6. Chapter 6

The Sams entered the salad place and their eyes rover across the menu high on the wall.

“Oooh! Chicken avocado with baby spinach.”

“How about if I get the chickpea and edamame with the spicy Dijon dressing and we share?”

“Deal.”

They brought their salads, packaged in recyclable cardboard containers, to a table by the window and sat.

“So,” Sam eyes his double. “Dean and Cas, huh?”

“Yeah,” his double said. “For a long time now. I gather it’s not like that in your world?”

Sam laughed. “My brother’s emotionally constipated.” He picked at his salad. “I don’t suppose Jess is alive here?”

His doubled shook his head. “Sorry, man. I wish.”

"Yeah. You and me both." 

* * *

 

Six blocks away, the Deans were eating meat.

“Thanks for the music,” Doppeldean said, his mouth half full of bacon cheeseburger.

Dean nodded and swallowed a bite of his own burger. “We can’t be us without Zeppelin. It’s just not right.” Looking over his double’s shoulder he watched Benny’s double working happily at the grill. It was good to see a smile on his face. This whole dimension was freakin’ peaches and cream compared to his. Of course everything was relative. Even in this dimension his double had gone to hell. He was still a Winchester, after all.

“We should compare collections before you go,” Doppeldean suggested. “I could make you a couple of mixed tapes.”

“Nice.” Dean stuffed the tail end of his burger into his mouth and wiped his fingers nervously on a napkin. “Can I ask you sumfin?”

“Sure.” Doppeldean gulped his Coke.

“What’s it like, datin’ Cas?”

He set the glass down. “Are you jokin’?”

“Do I look like I’m jokin'?” Dean did not.

“It’s friggin’ awesome.” Doppeldean smiled. “Cas is funny. And badass. And thoughtful in the weirdest ways.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And not for nothin’, but the sex is mind-blowing.”

“Really? He always seemed kinda naïve and inexperienced, which,” Dean raised his hands defensively, “lemme tell ya, is _so_ not my thing.”

Doppeldean shook his head. “No worries. The learning curve on an angel? Practically vertical. He picks it up damn quickly. Especially if you let him read your mind, which I totally recommend.” Doppeldean made a hand gesture that mimed his head exploding.

Benny’s double approached their table with two steaming slices of apple pie smelling richly of sugar and cinnamon.

“I can’t get over this Doublemint Twin shit, brother,” he laid a hand on Doppeldean’s shoulder and gazed raptly at Dean.

“I know, wite?” Doppeldean spoke around a mouthful of still-too-hot pie. He swallowed painfully. “I bet there’s a Xerox of you in their dimension, too.”

Doppelbenny’s yes twinkled. “Yeah? He cook too?”

Dean thought of Benny, whose life back on earth had sucked so bad he’d willingly died and returned to purgatory. “Yeah. He’s a great cook.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“He would be.” Benny smacked Doppeldean on the back. “I gotta get back to my grill. You boys enjoy the pie.”

Dean dug into his, moaning over the flaky crust and perfectly cooked filling. His double had great taste in pie. It made a guy wonder how much else he might be right about.

“Look,” Dean said, moving a forkful of pie around on his plate, “I feel bad about the shit that went down between us. If you’re willin’ to start over, I think we could be friends.”

“I’m sorry too.” Doppeldean sighed. “I love Cas. Like, down to my bones. And seeing him unhappy, well, I was a little pissed at you about that.”

Dean chuckled. “I noticed.”

“I figured if you’ve been with Cas this long and hadn’t stepped up, you probably never would. So it seemed like the only way to take that godawful sad look off his face was to bring him home with me.” He looked Dean in the eye. “Am I wrong?”

Dean looked around before speaking. “I’m not gay, okay. I mean, technically Cas isn’t even really a dude, right?” Doppeldean rolled his eyes, but Dean continued. “So yeah. You may be wrong.”

“I’d love to be wrong.”

“Just give me time, okay?”

Doppeldean forked the remaining piece of pie into his mouth, scraped a bit of filling off his plate and licked it from the fork tines. “You got until 10:23am tomorrow.”

* * *

“It looks like a teleporter made by a drunken child prodigy,” Sam said, examining the mechanism Ash and Castiel had made. “Are those Legos?”

“They were a perfect fit,” Ash said proudly. He spotted something that displeased him on the far side of the mechanism, picked up a hammer, and began to wail on the metal until satisfied. “This baby’ll do the job. I call her The Stairway.”

“As in Stairway To Heaven.”

“Duh.”

“I’m afraid to even ask,” Dean said, “but how’s it work? You punched a hole in the side of heaven?”

Ash shook his head pityingly. “You’re thinkin’ of heaven as a specific place, like a bank vault, but it’s more like _every_ specific place.” He scratched the back of his head. “The tricky part was conceptualizing space outside of time. The rest was pretty easy.”

Castiel opened a backpack and handed out jars of oil. “It seemed prudent to bring holy oil.”

“What do we do with it?” Doppeldean asked.

“A burning circle will trap an angel inside,” Dean explained. “ And being hit with a firebomb of this stuff will kill anything but an archangel.”

“Are you okay with this?” Sam’s double asked him, looking up from the cloudy jar. “I mean, killing angels? Seems like the kind of thing that might piss off God.”

“Only if we have to,” Sam assured him. “Absolutely a last resort.”

“Look, other…Sam,” Dean said, “I’ve met a lot of Angels, and they’re pretty much all dicks. And I’m down with killing anyone who laid a hand on Cas.” He notices Castiel looking at him with open curiosity. “Any Cas. So yeah. I’m good with the plan.”

“Dean?” Doppelsam looked to his brother.

“Anything that gets between me and Cas is gonna die, Sammy, angel or not.”

Dean slapped a hand on his back. “You heard the man.”

As they followed along behind Castiel and the Deans, Sam’s double leaned toward him. “You really think we can do this? Take on a bunch of angels?”

Sam smiled. “Actually, with two Dean Winchesters this pissed, I just feel sorry for them.”

* * *

She wasn’t at the lair anymore. There were signs that someone had searched. Humans. The place reeked of them. He had waited, hoping for her return, burying his face in their soiled bedclothes for her scent. Finally it occurred to him to him to try the school. There were cars—too many cars.

He slipped inside and moved tentatively to the basement. She had mentioned the basement, the portal, and the glory they would share when her plan came to fruition. He didn’t really understand most of what she’d said, but she hadn’t minded. She would reward him for his service anyway. At the stairs, he paused. There was a line of salt across the doorway. The scent of humans stained the air, and also the smell of a body, decomposing. He watched the lanky one with the big ears reading a comic book and laughing. He didn’t understand why this man was here, but he knew instinctively that this man was bad. She wouldn’t come back to this place, wouldn’t touch him again, as long as humans were in the basement. He needed to kill this bad man. And to do that he’d need a bucket of water.

* * *

Sam stepped through the portal into a white hallway suffused with soft light. Heaven reminded him of some sort of hyper-clean office building. He followed Castiel, who seemed to remember exactly where to go, which was good since all the halls looked alike to Sam. He clutched his jar of holy oil and kept his double close behind him. The guy was nervous and Sam felt oddly protective of him, as if he were a little brother.

His double looked around, trying to take in the details. “So are mom and dad up here somewhere?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Sam hesitated for only a moment before the lie fell easily from his lips. “Oh yeah. Everyone has their own heaven, but soulmates stay together.” He didn’t want to burden him with the messed up half-speculations about exactly where John Winchester’s soul might be.

“Jess too?” Sam could see the plan forming in his double’s eye and felt an echo in his own chest. To see her again, to hold her…he quashed the hope. They had a mission. “She’s probably got her dream house with that little garden she always talked about.” He put a hand on his double’s shoulder. “Let her have her space, okay? You know Jess. And you know how pissed she’d be if we show up early.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“I know it.” But Sam also moved so his double walked in front of him and he could keep an eye on the guy. He knew himself too well.

When they walked up to the bars of the dungeon Castiel was sitting on the floor of his cell, as patient and calm as if he were waiting for a bus. As soon as his eyes spotted Dean his face showed delight, followed by concern.

“Dean!” The angel cocked his head, which always made Sam think of parakeets. “You’re corporeal.” In response to the confusion on Doppeldean’s face, he added, “I speculated you might be dead.”

“Not yet, angel.” Doppeldean rushed to the bars and they clung to one another, attempting to touch foreheads, but kept apart by the short spacing of the bars.

Castiel took in his lover’s companions. “This is not what I expected.” He looked at his own double, surprised, and impressed. “You’re a seraph.”

“Yes,” Castiel said, his voice low and even, his eyes watchful for a guard. “Apparently if you die twice for a just cause, our Father promotes you.” He looked at his counterpart with naked curiosity. “What…what are you?”

His double shrugged. “I’m not sure anymore. I was an angel, but I’ve been manifesting seraph powers. I wasn’t sure why, but now I have a theory.” His gaze shifted between his double and Doppeldean, who had found the keys and was blushing as he unlocked the cell door.

“Congratulations on your new powers,” Sam said, his head swiveling to watch for anyone approaching. He moved his hand in a hurrying motion. “Can we please flee the dungeon now?”

Castiel stepped out. “You don’t have to worry about guards, Sam. Nobody comes down here anymore. I alarm them.”

Doppeldean gripped him in an embrace that would be crushingly painful if inflicted on a human. “I can’t imagine why,” he said.

* * *

Back on earth, Castiel looked up at the sun shining over South Dakota. The mission had been a success. They now had 19 hours before they could return to their own dimension. Or until Sam and Dean did, anyway. He looked at Dean, who gave him a nod. He was cleaning his nails with a knife and trying not to look at where their doubles were having an intimate moment against the trunk of the Impala, their foreheads pressed together, sharing the same air. The Sams were standing with Ash, listening raptly to a story about a woman he’d met online who it happened had a conjoined twin sister. Castiel moved to stand by Dean and leaned against the car.

“It’s nice we were able to free him,” Castiel offered.

“Yeah. They uh, they seem happy.”

“They do.”

“Shouldn’t,” Dean cleared his throat and looked into the sun, his eyes shining,” shouldn’t you be back there with them? The whole ménage à trois thing?”

Castiel blushed. Dean’s attempt at a French accent was terrible. “I thought they could use some time together. It’s been six months.”

“Right. Right.” Dean smirked. “They could probably use a room. Which reminds me,” he raised his voice and called to Sam. “We should find a place to stay for the night and then grab some dinner.”

Doppelsam pulled out his phone. “I guess we can grab some takeout and crash at Bobby’s. I’ll call and ask.”

Sam and Dean’s heads both swiveled to look at him, mouths agape. “Bobby’s alive?”

In Bobby Singer’s livingroom Dean hovered over a map of Kansas, showing his counterpart the location of the Men of Letters bunker and boasting of the water pressure in its showers. The Sams and Bobby were having a beer and talking, Sam’s face beaming at seeing Bobby alive and well.

“Shot in the head?” Bobby groused at hearing what had become of his double. “Balls. That don’t sound like me.”

“You weren’t very happy about it,” Sam admitted “First you were a vengeful spirit, and then your soul was taken to Hell by rogue reapers, and then we busted you out and you went to Heaven. And later you helped us orchestrate a jailbreak.”

Bobby sat for a moment, digesting the information. “Okay, that sounds like me.”

“You mind if we just hang out,” Sam asked. His double entered the room and passed him a beer. “Thanks.” To Bobby he added, “I missed you, old man.”

“Fine by me.” Bobby blushed and accepted a beer. “I’ll try not to let it give me a swelled head.” He grunted a laugh. “Keep it a smaller target.”

In the kitchen, Castiel put a hand on his double’s shoulder. “May we speak privately?”

“Of course.” He took Castiel by the hand and suddenly the two angels are sitting on a bench, watching the sun set over the Grand Canyon. The air was cool and dry.

Castiel got straight to the point. “I had sex with your Dean. Once for the ritual to open the portal and once recreationally.” He watched two fire ants cross in front of the bench.

His double nodded. “I know. When you touched my mark it renewed my hope and changed the very nature of my grace. I’m grateful.”

Castiel hung his head. “It was not my intention to usurp your role in Dean’s life. Initially, we believed you were dead. I should have considered other possibilities, but I was distracted.”

“Dean can be very distracting.”

Castiel blushed. “Yes he can. However I had no such excuse the second time. I acted knowingly and sinned against you. I apologize.” He looked searchingly at his counterpart.

Doppelcas put a hand on his thigh. “Your apology is unnecessary. You brought Dean home and rescued me. I’m grateful. And pleased for you. Dean is very good at sex. I assume you had a satisfactory experience.”

“Completely satisfactory. Revelatory, even.” Castiel looked at the shadows slowly filling the rocky chasm. “My own relationship with Dean has been…fraught.”

“You were not together in your world?”

“No.” Castiel hung his head. “In fact, I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“Ouch.”

“Indeed.” Castiel noted his double’s use of slang was more advanced than his own, perhaps as a result of the long-standing intimacy of his relationship. “Your Dean has proposed I stay here, with both of you.”

“That would maximize your happiness.” Doppelcas took him by the hand. “I am open to sharing, if that’s what you’re asking. And not to toot my own horn, but I’ve picked up a considerable sexual skillset.”

Castiel realized what his double was suggesting and raised an eyebrow. “If you were in my position, what would you do?”

Doppelcas looked almost nostalgic. “I have a record of making reckless choices. However, if my opinion is relevant, Dean Winchester is worth waiting for.”

Castiel nodded. “I used to be good at waiting.” They held hands and leaned into one another, watching the sun until it disappeared into the horizon.


	7. Chapter 7

Garth heard the water first, and looked up to see it pouring down the stairs like a dirty waterfall. Then he saw the man at the top, holding the bucket.

“Hey, this area’s off limits,” Garth said, trying to sound authoritative. He moved to block the stairs.

The man glaring down at him from the landing wasn’t very big, and Garth was optimistic he could take him down if need be, right until the man’s eyes flickered and turned black. Garth sighed. Even if he transformed into his wolf form he might be in for some trouble. Demons were darn strong.

“She’s gone, and it’s all your fault,” the demon chocked out. Garth recognized someone in a crisis when he saw one. And this guy had it bad.

“Aw, man,” Garth ran a hand down his face. The axe in his hand would be useless against the demon creeping his way down the slippery stairs. He’d have to hope to maneuver the guy into the devil’s trap and exorcise him.

“You’ve lost someone,” Garth said, raising a palm in a friendly gesture. “I get that. I’ve been there, buddy. Let’s talk.”

“I thought she’d be here.”

“Maybe I can help you find her.” Garth took a step back and waved an arm invitingly toward the empty room. “Look around if you like.”

The demon spied the devil’s trap on the floor. “You’re not going to trick me.”

“Trick you? Pshaw! We’re just two guys talkin’” Garth’s eyes searched the room, landing on a mostly-empty bag of salt. “Look, I’ll even put down the axe.” Standing in front of the salt he bent his knees, making a show of setting his axe on the floor. As he bent he slipped a hand behind his back and grabbed the salt bag.

“Tell me about her,” Garth urged. He loosened his grip on the neck of the bag and began to let the salt drain out, marking a trail as he walked toward the demon. “What’s she like?”

“We were supposed to meet once the portal was open,” the demon said, pausing in the middle of the room. He sniffed the air, confused. “Is she here? It smells like her.”

The demon walked, sniffing the air, and Garth followed close, pouring salt behind him and praying it wasn’t audible as it hit the concrete floor. He’d marked out 180 degrees now. If he could only get the demon to move toward the stairs again, he could complete the circle with him inside it.

“Oh, hey, careful of that devil’s trap,” Garth said, guiding him to step around the painted sigil. He’d reach 225 degrees. Only 135 to go. He got another 45 as the demon approached a wrapped up tarp sitting on some old gym mats. His powerful hands tore open the tarp and he looked inside. When his head turned back his face was a mask of fury.

“You! You killed her!”

He took three bounding steps toward Garth, angry hands clawing for him. Garth stumbled backwards, salt pouring from the bag until it emptied out. He tripped over his axe and landed partially on the stairs, grimacing. That was gonna leave a bruise for sure.

The demon pulled up short as he encountered the salt and reeled, following the wobbling lines. It wasn’t a circle exactly. To Garth it looked more like the outline of a giant summer squash. But both ends of the line met, so it’d do the trick. Realizing he was trapped the demon began to scream at him, promising bloody retribution and millennia of tortured suffering.

“Just so you know,’ Garth said, rising from the floor and dusting himself off, “I didn’t have nothing to do with your lady friend getting killed.”

“Liar!” the demon hissed.

“You have a lot of trust issues,” Garth admonished him. “If I was you I’d work on that. Cause trust is the foundation upon which the house of love is built. Think about it.” Garth took a calming breath and began to speak the words of an exorcism. Well technically, he rapped it. He’d found that Latin was easier to remember if he said it to a beat. The lovesick demon dude fell to his knees inside the salt and black smoke poured from his eyes and up into a ceiling air vent. As the body collapsed backward Garth hurried forward to check for a pulse, but he wasn’t feeling optimistic.

* * *

When Dean entered Bobby’s guest room it was dark, and Cas was lying on a mattress, staring at the ceiling. There was no “Hello Dean” to make that warm feeling curl inside his chest. There was only the recognition that each was aware of the other. He sat on the bed and Cas didn’t move. Dean felt sick but needed to somehow push the words in his mind past the lump in his throat.

“Listen, Cas, I just need to know. Is it too late?”

“Too late for what?”

“For us, man. If I asked you to come back with us, would you?”

“With us, or with you?”

And that was the real question, wasn’t it? The question that revealed Dean at his most vulnerable and inadequate. Because leaving him was what people did. But he needed to hear the rejection or he’d die wondering. Maybe in six month, maybe in fifty years, but he knew it’d be at the forefront of his mind when his time came.

“With me.” His body tensed as if anticipating a blow to the midsection.

“ _Are_ you asking?”

He took in a lungful of air and pushed it out again. “I’m asking. Come home with me, Cas.” Dean tensed. It was one thing to lose out to some other guy—someone better looking, smarter, nicer—it made sense. But to lose out to himself...that would be a real kick in the teeth. He thought about the time Zachariah had sent him to that nightmare future where he was a total douchebag. He’d assumed that it had been losing Sam that had made him that way. But lately he wondered if fighting these feelings for Cas was what set him on the road to douchebaggery in the first place. Cause the Dean that was with Cas was different. He was so happy it was almost painful to watch. He couldn’t imagine that guy turning into that angry reckless jerk he’d met in 2014. But when he thought about himself and Cas, that future still seemed plausible, unless he did something now.

“What exactly would I be coming home to?” Cas asked.

Dean lay on the bed, eyes staring sightlessly into the dark. He was hyperaware of Cas’ weight next to him, of his body heat, and his smell. Sam was right. Screw cowardice. He’d put it out there and take the rejection like a man.

“Ever see a kid learn to walk, Cas?”

“I’ve seen the human race learn to walk.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. Of course he had. “Well at first they just make little kicking motions with their feet,” he explains, remembering his brother’s first clumsy attempts. “Then they pull themselves up on whatever’s around. So you take their little hands and you hold them up as they try to walk. And when they fall on their ass you help them up again. And again. Eventually they’re walking on their own.”

“This is fascinating.” Castiel said flatly. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Cause I’m still taking baby steps here, Cas, but I’m learning.” He fumbled along the mattress until he found Cas’s hand, grasped it, and brought it to his mouth, kissing each of the knuckles. “Help me up.”

Cas turned on his side, toward him and Dean did the same. He knew that Cas could probably see him just fine, and he lay there just letting himself be seen, not bothering to try to hide his fear and hope. Despite his layers of clothes, he felt naked.

Still gripping his hand, Cas pulled him forward and Dean went.

The door opened, bathing the room in light from the hall and Dean sat up just as the overhead switched on. Both Sams leaned in and looked around.

“We’re just scoping out sleeping arrangements,” his brother said, measuring the double mattress with his eyes. Then, with a jab in the ribs from his double, Sam realized that his brother and Castiel had been lying in the dark together. He stepped back. “Oh! My bad. We could come back later.”

“No, Sam. It’s fine.” Cas stood. “I’ll leave you to arrange things here. The other Castiel and I have made plans to spend some time together.” He turned to Dean. “I’ll see you in the morning at the portal.”

Dean’s gaze was fierce and pleading, as if he wanted to push his feelings into the angel’s brain without having to say the words. “You’d better.”

* * *

At 10:15 the goodbyes began in earnest, and at 10:23 Sam stepped through Ash’s portal door, followed closely by Castiel. Dean had purposely taken up the rear position to ensure that under no circumstances did Cas get left behind. Dean kept a grip on his hand that would have been intensely painful on a human, but that he knew wouldn’t have restrained Cas if he’d wanted to break away. The grip was for Dean’s own benefit and he didn’t bother to kid himself about that now.

“Welcome home, Space Cowboys!” Garth cried joyfully, gripping Sam in a hug.

Seeing Castiel and Dean holding hands his grin broke wide. “I knew it!” He made a move as if to poke Dean playfully in the stomach. It may have been Dean’s warning glare that held him back. “You dog! Congrats, man. I knew you crazy kids would get together eventually.”

“Kids?” Dean huffed. “I’m your age, except, you know, wise and more experienced. Hell, if we count all the years I spent downstairs or in purgatory I’m more than twice your age.”

“I win the age competition,” Castiel growled, “having witnessed the birth of creation. Can we please go now?”

Dean fought a smile. After the group sleepover that had been Bobby’s house Castiel was anxious to be alone with Dean, and that was a plan Dean could get behind. He thought about the words ‘get behind’ and quickly turned a laugh into a cough.

His eye caught the torn tarp and the man lying on top of it. “Why are there two bodies down here instead of one?”

Garth grinned sheepishly and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “That, my friend, is a pretty funny story.”

* * *

It was six minutes before 10:00am on Christmas Eve, and Dean was going over his packages in the dusty basement of the disused school.

“They’re fine,” Sam assured him. “Relax.”

“I just want it to be right,’ Dean complained. “Portals are hell on the wrapping paper.”

A comparison of playlists conducted two months back had revealed that his double’s dimension lacked the music of Bad Company, so he’d bought him their debut album and Straight Shooter. Dean had a strong suspicion about what he’d be getting in return. After listening to Led Zeppelin his double had talked at length about the music of TNY, which apparently stood for The New Yardbirds. The name sounded country to Dean but his double assured him that Jimmy Page played lead guitar.

“Dean, you used like half a roll of duct tape,” Sam said, examining the silvery grey packages.

“Shut it, Sam. You don’t see me bitchin’ about the weird-ass gifts you’re giving your double.”

“What?” Sam clung defensively to his bulky packages. “We like the law, Dean. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“It’s almost time,” Cas appeared behind them, peering over Dean’s shoulder.

“You got your thing for the other Cas?” Dean asked him.

“Yes.” He held up a duct taped tube. “It’s a set of silver blades forged by Buddhist monks. It’ll kill the Garudas they’ve been encountering in Texas.”

“Cool. Kind of a couple gift.”

“Exactly. You got them music?”

“Yeah. And that book about bees you recommended.”

“I’m confident he’ll enjoy it. I certainly did.”

Sam looked up from his watch. “Coming up, guys. Ten, nine eight…” Sam continued the countdown and at 10:23 the portal opened and their counterparts stepped through.

Dean’s double gripped him in a tight squeeze, slapping him on the back. “Let’s keep this short and sweet, huh? I’ve got a pie to get home to.”

“You ‘n me both.” They exchanged packages and his double glanced over at where Cas and Sam were deep in conversation with their look-alikes.

“So, how’s it going?” he asked, his voice low.

Dean answered the question his double was really asking. “It’s great. Better than great.” He blushed. “Hell, you know.”

“Yeah. I do.” Doppeldean punched his shoulder. “Still, you ruined my chance at the threesome of the century.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t write that off just yet. Those two’re getting pretty cozy.” He nodded his head to where the two angels were holding hands, talking in hushed tones against one another’s necks.

“Maybe next Christmas?”

Dean licked his lip. “We got a birthday coming up.”

“It’s time, guys!” Sam held his arm up and tapped his watch. The doubles exchanged gifts and goodbyes.

“Give our love to Bobby,” Sam said.

“I will.” Doppelsam’s face dimpled in a smile.

Dean’s soul twin pointed a finger at him as he moved toward the portal. “We are definitely floating that idea!”

“Deal!” Dean watched the door close behind them with something like regret. He clapped his hands together. “Alright! Let’s cover this sucker up.” They began to shift the debris to hide the portal.

Dean leaned toward Cas as he hefted a heavy stack of moldy gym mats. “Listen, when we get back to the motel I wanna talk about my birthday.”

“I have some ideas about that.” Cas moved a broken blackboard.

“You do?” Dean dropped the mats against the portal.

“Yes. My proposal may seem unconventional, but I hope you’ll keep an open mind.” Cas smirked. Even when engaged in intense conversation both he and his double had excellent hearing.


End file.
